Deva 03: Academy Blues Side Stories
by Daishi Prime
Summary: Deva Series 03. A series of oneshots detailing students and events that do not receive much attention in the main story, Academy Blues.
1. 01 h4k0rz

_**Opening Note & Explanation:**_ At the request/suggestion/order of several of my reviewers on Academy Blues, after many attempts on my part to avoid it, and a couple flashes of inspiration, I have decided to post a new pseudo-series, Academy Blues: Side Stories. This series, which will probably consist mostly of one-shot chapters of the titular work, will mostly cover those students who get the least screen-time in Academy Blues itself, though I reserve the right to include the primary characters at need/whim. The different chapters will be different lengths, covering different times in the primary time-line, and varying _lengths _of time, so apologies beforehand for the disconnected feel. I will do my best to keep this integrated with the main story, but at the same time I won't be keeping the main story in line with this one – Academy Blues may reference something that happens here, but only in passing. Because this _is_ a side project, I won't be updating it at all regularly, but only as I get ideas and take the time to write them out, so please don't ask for/demand updates, just trust me that I will get around to them.

As I forgot to mention in Academy Blues ('cause it's bloody obvious), I don't own any of the characters from Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha. I do, however, claim ownership of the kids' characters.

And now that my rear is sufficiently covered, on with the show...

**h4x0rz**

An Academy Blues Side Story

By Daishi Prime

September, First Week

"Excuse me, Allina Maricopa?"

Allina glanced up briefly from the PDA in front of her, noting a slightly taller girl with dark skin and darker eyes. "Hey, you're Niranjana, right?"

"Yes. May I speak with you?"

Allina shrugged, "Sure. What's up?" Despite her agreement, most of her attention remained focused on the PDA. She was just getting time to conduct serious explorations of the school's network, and it was already proving to be an interestingly complicated morass of systems. It felt like it had been built by three separate designers working in different languages at cross-purposes, but functioned far too smoothly to be that poorly designed.

"Maricopa-san?"

"What?"

"Are you listening, please?"

Allina did not bother looking up, just waved, "Yeah, I'm listening. It's called multi-tasking. You talk, I'll listen, and I promise to actually hear everything you say."

Niranjana was quiet for a few minutes, but then asked, "You are skilled with computers, yes? I heard you asking if you could bring personal machines."

"I'm okay. No world-class black-hat, not yet, but I'm okay. Lemme guess, you already broke your PDA and you're too embarrassed to go to the teachers?"

"No, my PDA is adequate," Niranjana answered, "I merely hoped to find someone who shared my interests."

That got Allina's full attention right quick. She looked up, to find the Indian girl staring right back at her. "You're a hacker? For real, or are you just a puffed up script-kiddie? I don't like script-kiddies, they annoy me."

"I am _not _a _hacker_," Niranjana replied in a primly insulted tone, "but I am interested in computer programming and architecture, and you are the only person here who has evinced any similar interest."

Allina grinned, "Okay, so you're a suit-in-training. Close enough, if you're any good. You just wanna talk shop, or you up for some goofing off?"

"Goofing off?" Niranjana frowned at her for a moment, obviously trying to determine what Allina meant, then shrugged slightly, "so long as it is not illegal or against the Academy's rules, I would be amenable."

"Amenable. Gah, you're worse than Noriko-san." Allina dropped her PDA on the table, and stuck out a hand, "Name's Allina. Nice to meet you, Niranjana my hacker-in-training."

Niranjana took the hand slowly, uncertainly, and shook it, "Nice to meet you, Allina. But I am not a hacker."

Allina smiled back, "you will be."

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September, Fourth Week

Niranjana was, by now, quite familiar with where Allina's room was in the Girls' Wing. First floor, third door forward from the common room on the left. Her own room was two doors further down and across the hall. As she knocked at Allina's door, however, she was a little surprised to realize that she had not yet actually seen the inside of her friend's room. Which was a bit of a surprise, because so far Allina was probably the only real friend she had among the students here. That was not to say she did not like the others, but she had not managed to make the sort of instant connection she had with Allina, thanks to their common interest. Niranjana was familiar enough with herself to know she would eventually count most of her fellow students as friends, but it would take a long time before she was entirely comfortable with them.

Allina opened her door after a few seconds, and Niranjana quirked an eyebrow in silent reproof. It was almost noon, and Saturday or not, Allina really should have been dressed, as Niranjana herself was. Instead, the other girl was standing there in shorts and a tank top, long hair loose and wild, a pocky stick hanging out of her mouth. "'Mornin', 'Jana," Allina mumbled foggily around the pocky, "'Sup?"

"You do realize what time it is?"

"Huh?"

Niranjana sighed, connecting the dress, the somewhat spaced-out look, and the semi-coherent speech to realize that, "You stayed up all night again, didn't you?"

Allina blinked at her for a moment, then reached up and snapped off the pocky. Turning back into her room to look for a clock, she asked, "Um, what time is it?"

"Noon," Niranjana replied, following Allina into the room, "or nearly so. Why do you do this every Friday night?" Allina's room proved to match her current appearance. There were clothes scattered everywhere, the bed wasn't made, the books on her shelves were in no particular order but heavily decorate with post-it bookmarks, and her desk was festooned with computer accessories attached to the desktop beneath, amongst which her school-issue PDA was almost lost. The trashcan next to her desk was overflowing with empty pocky containers.

"'S wha' 'm used to," Allina muttered back. Then she found her clock, hauling it off the floor to glare at the display. "Gah! Noon minus ten. No wonder I'm out of pocky, I've been up all night. I need breakfast."

"Lunch, actually," Niranjana reminded her, amused at Allina's disheveled state but trying not to show it. "You need a shower first, then you need to get dressed. You wanted to show me something 'glorious' you found on the school network, but I think you need to wake up, first."

Allina nodded, "'K. See y' in caf?"

"Yes, I'll wait for you in the cafeteria," Niranjana agreed, then slipped out.

It took Allina barely half an hour before she came strolling into the cafeteria, still looking a little bedraggled, but at least alert, clean, and in clean clothes, though her one concession to modesty was changing out the shorts for sweat pants. Predictably, all her attention, even as she piled food on a plate, was on the PDA cradled in her off hand. She looked up long enough to find Niranjana, then strolled over still studying that small screen.

"Feeling more awake?"

"Yeah, mostly," Allina answered, settling down in a neighboring chair. "I probably would've crashed in a bit anyhow, most've what I was working on's done."

"What is so important that you refuse to sleep Friday nights?"

"And Saturday nights," Allina told her, grinning slightly. "I'm a night owl, I prefer working when the sun's down. Less screen glare and fewer interruptions."

"If you say so, but you still need some sleep."

Allina shrugged, "I cat nap most weekends."

"What was last night? Cracking open a bank, accessing hidden military files, changing your grades?"

Allina's grin twisted into a frown, "Nah, nothing so fun." In between bits her meal, she explained, "'Ve got a real mess of systems at home. One of the hard disks failed last night..." a circling gesture with a fork, "... last night Buenos Aires time. Mãe swapped in a new one for me. The RAID's kinda slapdash, so I had to baby it rebuilding from the mirror. Then I was working on covering my tracks from yesterday. Gave a couple docs to Laura that I really shouldn't've."

"Are you sure that was safe?" Niranjana liked Laura well enough. The girl was hyperactive, yes, but she was also friendly, nice, and eager to get along with almost everyone. But she was also quite obviously a danger to everyone around her, and Allina's attitude suggested the documents in question would rather enhance that.

"Mebbe," Allina allowed, "but I kinda made the mistake of telling her I found them, and she would've got caught trying to get them, then the teacher's would've wondered how she found out they were there, and even if she didn't tell them, they'd've traced it back to me."

"They still could."

"Not as likely, if she's not blundering about in the Secure Archives all by her lonesome. She's okay with computers, but she doesn't really know what she's doing. Not like we do."

"So what did you find that was so interesting. You sounded like you were on cloud nine last evening, and I thought that was what you spent the entire night and morning working on."

"Wanted to," Allina allowed, "but haven't had time. That RAID had all my personal software on it, everything I use, so I needed it back up ASAP."

"Why did you not bring it with you?" Allina froze, then turned to stare at her with an absolutely shocked expression. "What? You brought your desktop, why not bring the data server as well?"

Allina's shocked expression melted away, and she dissolved into giggles. "Bring the server? Bring it? Here? Holy Mary Mother of God, that would be ridiculous! 'Jana, I'm a parts-hound and have been for, like, four years now! I turned my parent's basement into an ISP, practically. Mãe got me my own personal web domain for my thirteenth birthday! The RAID that failed's only four discs, but the computer they're part of has another ten in two more arrays. Sure, they're all little ten-gig junkers, but that's a big honkin' machine. Do you really think Hayate-sensei'd let me set up that monster in my dorm room? Or the Beowulf? Good God, no! Funny to think about, but... no!"

Niranjana was a programmer at heart, and no where near as familiar with the hardware side of computer terminology, so she needed a bit to figure out what Allina was saying, and she almost managed it. "Okay, so bringing it here would be a problem. But, what's a 'Beowulf'?" That got her a disbelieving look, then a long-suffering sigh. "Please, Allina. I am no 'parts-hound'. I use what I have and make it work better by improving the software. I am not familiar with hardware terms."

"Beowulf's both," Allina countered. "Some cheap-skate professor at a US college – Berkley, I think – wanted a supercomputer, but couldn't afford a real one. So he and his students came up with a way to take a whole slew of off-the-shelf processors – you know, Pentiums and AMDs and the like – and string them all together. A bit of hardware, some heavy programming, and they all function in unison, like one super-processor, instead of a whole bunch of little ones. I helped Dad make a sort of mini-Beowulf for a school project last year. Just old Pentium twos, eight of 'em, but it's still a Beowulf."

"How many did the professor at Berkely use?"

"Couple thousand. Yeah, I know, mine's tiny. It's bragging rights, okay? My cousin was on my case 'cause his parents bought him a hyped up new gaming computer, and I wanted to show him up. " Allina giggled again, "Worked, to. Little bastard went home screaming about how he had to have one. And now I get to say with a straight face that _I _have a _supercomputer_!"

"Even if it isn't one."

"That depends on your definitions," Alline replied loftily.

Niranjana sighed in turn, but let it slide. Allina could be remarkably stubborn about putting her accomplishments in the best possible light, and it usually was not worth the trouble of arguing with her. "So, what was this thing you found?"

A shrug, "Dunno."

"Then why are you so interested in it?"

"'Cause it shouldn't exist, and it doesn't recognize a network administrator account's access rights. It ignored mine like I was a guest user off the Web."

It took Allina half an hour, and a move to the library, to explain and demonstrate what she had found. The only interruption was when Laura passed them on the quad, muttering something about Allina owing her a box of Pixie Sticks, which comment Allina refused to explain. What she did explain, however, was worrisome enough.

"I think," Niranjana said slowly, once Allina was finished, "that we have a problem. What you have told me is very impressive, very interesting, and adds a sinister twist to something I discovered a couple of days ago. I wanted to talk it over with you, make sure I was not seeing signs of your work, before I took it to Aria-sensei."

Allina shook her head, "I doubt it's me. I haven't really _done_ much yet, just poked around a little."

"Which, if you are correct, does not make me feel better," Niranjana replied, while bringing up a document on her own PDA. "Take a look at this," she said, sending the document to the terminal Allina was at.

Allina scanned the collection of notes quickly, then started muttering to herself in her native Portugese, flipping through screens rapidly. Niranjana recognized most of them, and knew that her friend was just confirming the information she had provided, so she waited patiently, until Allina sat back. "Okay, that's not me. Not one of my admin IDs, first of all. Mine's a lot better hidden, see this name'll stick out like a sore thumb. And look at all these flags on it, no one gives a single admin this many permissions, not on one ID at least. And these other changes you found? Not mine. Again, too obvious."

Niranjana felt, at the same time, relieved and depressed. She was relieved, in that she had not discovered Allina making such a blatant mistake. The depression came from the fact that someone had hacked the school network already. "All right. So, we need to take this to Aria-sensei, so she can take steps to kick them out."

"Yeah. God, she's gonna ask how we discovered it, isn't she?"

"Probably," Niranjana agreed, "but better that we get caught revealing an intruder, than we let the intruder have free rein. And before you ask, no, I am not willing to try and get rid of her ourselves. We might be able to, but we would get caught, and we're more likely to damage something."

"Oh, I wasn't going to ask," Allina said, slumping back in her chair, "I know my limits, and getting rid of this joker's going to take some serious work. Maybe a system wipe, depending on how deep he's penetrated."

"He?"

"Yeah, feels like a guy's work. No girl'd be that sloppy."

Niranjana smiled slightly, "Your prejudices are showing. Come on, Aria-sensei should be in her suite."

Aria was, indeed, in her suite, answering Niranjana's knock almost immediately. She invited them in, and they settled at a table under the window in her front room. Explaining why they were there was a simple enough matter, and Aria listened quite attentively to the entire thing. The hard part was trying to make it sound less like they were trying to commandeer the school's network, and more like simple exploration. Neither she nor Allina wanted to get in trouble for hacking the school's network, which was, from a certain perspective, precisely what they had been doing.

When they finished, Aria did not immediately speak. Instead, she looked out the window with a thoughtful expression, obviously thinking the matter over, nodding her head occasionally. Finally, she gave a sharp nod, "Sounds good. All right, girls," she turned her attention back to Niranjana and Allina, "thank you for bringing this up. We knew there had been an attack on the network from outside, but did not realize it had left so many traces. So, you two now have a special project, all your own."

Allina went from looking nervous to slightly afraid at that, "We do?" Niranjana could only agree with the resigned tone.

Aria's smile, unlike that of her twin, was gentle and reassuring. "Yes, you do. I want you to track down this hacker, see where he or she came from, find out how they got in, and most importantly, who they are. The only real limit is, you can only work from the campus. We can protect you from legal consequences so long as you are working from here. Other than that, find him or her, and let me know who it is."

Allina nodded, and Niranjana could see the light in her eyes as she contemplated the challenge. Niranjana had more practical concerns, however, "Is there a due date?"

"No," Aria told them, "but feel free to keep me apprised of your progress. Maybe I can offer advice."

------------------------------

October, Fourth Week

Contrary to popular fiction, computer hacking is far from glamorous. There are no 'hacker duels', no rip-roaring cybernetic speed contests, and the only adrenaline rushes come when police show up with their lights flashing. Violating a computer network in spite of its security requires far more in the way of bookkeeping, research, programming and tedious searches through long strings of numbers and code. The entire process was, in fact, routinely boring enough that Allina frequently found herself wondering why she bothered.

But there were those moments when it all paid off, when everything came together and she achieved that incredible feeling of sheer _omnipotence_. That was why she bothered, why she slogged through reams of data and rivers of code, for those wonderful moments when she felt like the entire world was sitting in her hands, her own personal plaything. There was nothing quite like finding yourself inside the security you had spent months analyzing and subverting, knowing that everything that security protected was now _yours_, to do with as you pleased.

At the moment, she was feeling rather more the former than the latter. She and Niranjana had spent a couple of hours a day, almost every day, for a month, and were making only slow progress. She had even given over two all-nighters to the project, when she thought she had some hot leads. They had, indeed, been hot, but the connections led only to more connections, more systems the two girls had to try and access, more security that they had to puzzle out. It was getting intensely frustrating, but that merely convinced Allina that the sense of victory at the end would be all the stronger.

"I do not understand," Niranjana commented one Saturday, after they found the high-security network their trace led to was just another relay point, and were back to slogging through the network's communications records, "Why are we having such difficulty? I know the movies are not accurate, but I understand police take this long to catch hackers, and if we are fortunate, we are, I am guessing, halfway to her."

"Cops have more resources," Allina muttered, slumping back from her computer to hang her head off the back of her chair. "They've got manpower, money, fair to middling computers, but mostly they've got judges. Go to a judge, tell him 'this network has information on a crime, I need access to it, these are the owners', and the judge writes up a subpoena. Deliver subpoena to network owner, network owner sets their own people to helping the cops, which gives the cops more manpower, more computers, and so on and so forth. We're doing everything solo. We have to break into the networks first to find out what our friend was doing there, and cover our own tracks while we do it. I know what's going on here, how this joker got in and gets around, but that doesn't help speed up tracking him back."

"What did she do?" Their difference of opinion on their opponent's gender had become something of an inside joke between the two of them. Neither was willing to admit the other might have guessed right.

"He's left fingerprints everywhere. We keep finding that same netadmin account, right? The one you twigged to on the school's network?" Niranjana nodded slowly, so Allina continued, rocking her chair side to side slightly, "he sets those up. May not even want anything in the network he sets it up on, but that network becomes a way-station, a sort of zombie. He can tunnel in to that network, then use the ID on that network to create a new, separate tunnel to another network, and so on and so forth. So he's got these zombies scattered all over the world, buried in networks, not doing anything but wait for him to call. If he's a good enough programmer, he could automate the process of creating tunnels – keep a list of compromised networks, then just plug in a random number of tunnels, and wait for the program to tell him it's ready. Do all the hacking from the far end of the tunnel series, and any traces will lead there, and the tunnels will terminate any trace attempts. Then the tracer will have to start digging like we are, one network at a time. If he's smart, he'll go around once in a while and just remove the network ID, after eliminating any traces that he's been there, to cut the trail clean."

"So, it will take months to track him down through all these connections? And we might still loose him?"

"Yeah, probably."

"What if she tried to remove all the IDs at once? Could she do it?"

"Pretty easily," Allina replied, wondering what was up with the question-and-answer routine. It was like pulling teeth, but she had figured out recently that it was how Niranjana thought out loud. "The ID set up allows him un-logged remote access whenever he wants it, so he can go in, clean up any traces, then leave a time-delayed command to delete the ID and log out. Slicker 'n snot. That's how I do it, usually."

Niranjana seemed to ignore most of what she said, specifying, "That would include the ID here on the school's network, wouldn't it?"

"If it was still there, yeah," Allina allowed, frowning slightly as the questions clicked together in her head. "You're thinking of trying to live-trace him while he's accessing the school network, aren't you? Good idea, but he won't go for it, and there's no telling when he'll try to access the school network again."

Niranjana shook her head, "Actually, what I as really thinking was... what would you do, if someone started posting on-line that the ID you planted was responsible for damage to their network, started asking if anyone else had that distinctive ID on their network, and any information on where it may have come from? We do that to her, she will almost have to try to remove the evidence."

Allina stared at her for a minute, eyes widening in comprehension. A shiver of atavistic fear ran down her spine, that sort of community call for information was one of her pet nightmares, one of the reasons she was so fanatically careful to cover her own tracks. Then the full impact of Niranjana's plan hit, and she smiled widely, "Damn, girl I _love _the way you think. Corporate types would give us info in a heartbeat, if they thought he was dangerous... especially if we promise to keep their identities and companies secret. Then we go on the hacker boards, float it about as a 'friendly warning' that suit's are looking for our guy."

Niranjana returned her smile, also nodding, "Hai. She will attempt to access the school's network again to clean up the traces of her presence, and we can live-trace her back to her source. Or at least, a lot closer than we are now. Even if we do not manage that, we will develop a larger database of networks she has compromised, and we may be able to find a pattern in that."

Allina let the initial flush of excitement fade, and started seriously thinking it over. It was a gamble, she could tell that. If their hacker reacted the way they were expecting, if they did not catch him in the act, he would be gone. He would be clearing out the evidence of his presence, and doing a thorough job of it. But it gave them a halfway decent chance of catching him before they graduated, and it was _doing something_, as opposed what they had been working on. The only problem she could see was the school network. "Beautiful idea, 'Jana, but it won't work. The school networks beautifully built for defense, and the processing power available's ridiculous, but everything's structured to keep intruders _out_. It's not set up to track people beyond the proxy server. We could do it, but that would involve tacking on some programs, activating some features in the proxy server itself... Aria-sensei could probably do it, but it would leave the school vulnerable."

"But it could work," Niranjana insisted, "and it has to be a better approach than this. If we had the manpower, or the legal access to the networks she's compromised, what we're doing would make sense. But..."

Allina waved one hand calmingly, "hold on, hold on. I wasn't saying no, 'Jana, just... not with the school's network." An idea was forming rapidly in her mind, and she focused on that.

"Can you use one of the other networks she's compromised?"

Allina shook her head, "No, not one of those. We'll use my Beowulf. Its programming's tricked out to a fair-thee-well, it can simulate a network easily enough, and one little address-spoof convinces the whole world that it's the school's proxy server. Only thing is, we'll have to get Aria-sensei's permission to slip it in between the proxy and the Internet, or there'll be serious connectivity issues. Oh, this is going to be good. I can simulate most of the school's network, so it'll look exactly the same to him, right down to his God-awful ID, and while he's 'cleaning up the traces', my Beowulf can track him right back through the live tunnels." Allina thought it over for a few more moments, solidifying the plan in her mind, beginning to list the steps she would have to take. "Come on, let's go talk to Aria-sensei, see if she'll agree to let me swap my Beowulf for her proxy server."

Tracking down Aria-sensei proved to be no problem. She and Lotte were strolling down the dorm hall when the two girls popped out of Allina's room. Allina only needed one look to realize the twins were there for her, and sighed, "God, what do they think I've done now?"

"Allina-chan!" Lotte's sing-song was so sweet and friendly it was scary, "we've been looking all over for you! It's not nice to hide from your sensei, Allina-chan."

All of the students had learned early on, primarily from Toushiro's selfless example, that defending themselves from Lotte's more outrageous accusations was sort of like waving a red cape in front of an angry bull. The cat-like sensei was completely unable to let such a challenge pass. Similarly, and unlike her classmates, Allina was constitutionally incapable of letting that sort of thing slide. "I wasn't hiding, I was in my room, with 'Jana!" Lotte just smiled wider, showing off her fangs slightly.

"I'll see you at dinner, Allina," Niranjana muttered, then bowed to the twins, turned tail, and vacated the area.

Allina glared at her retreating back, before muttering, "coward."

"We wanted to talk to you about one of your projects, Allina," Aria told her, putting a restraining arm on Lotte's shoulder, "can we use your room, please?"

Allina nodded, but gave her teacher a confused look as she opened the door, "Projects? I've only got the one, and Niranjana's..."

"Your project with Laura and Noriko," Aria clarified.

"The one you don't know about yet," Lotte added gleefully, "the one you started Laura on a few weeks ago. The one that would to get all of you in so much trouble, if Hayate-sama didn't already know about it."

Allina stared at them for a moment, afraid that they had found out about the documents she had given Laura, and that they were about to bring the entire world down on her head. Then Lotte's words sorted themselves out in her head, and she gave a slight smile back, "a chance to prank Laura? Where do I sign?"

------------------------------

October, Fifth Week

Setting up their trap turned out to be rather more complicated than tripping it. Aria gave her permission for their subterfuge, and even went so far as to offer the use of something she called 'the foundation server' to attempt the live-track if their intruder really did come back, though they collectively decided to have that attempt a separate simultaneous trace, as a backup. That was the easy part, and the second-to-last step in their plan.

All in all, Niranjana was quite impressed with that plan. The first part was pure programming, and while Allina was reluctant to give Niranjana access to her Beowulf, she did in the end. While Allina constructed the simulated network, Niranjana took some of Allina's programs, and a few of her own, and assembled a carrier-trace package, one that would link back through the intruder's path and maintain that path long enough to trace it, no matter how many switches, zombies, or tunnels it passed through.

Once the simulation, the carrier-trace, and Allina's personal security systems were ready, they re-routed the school's proxy-server through Allina's Beowulf in her parents' basement in Buenos Aires. They gave that a day to baseline, to make sure the connection functioned smoothly, and Allina arranged for her parents to test that stability remotely and verify that her simulated network was running properly. Finally, the two of them went into one of the networks they had already traced their opponent through, and carefully erased every sign of his presence. All of that took the better part of a week.

The next step was somewhat amorphous. Niranjana accessed a few corporate network-security forums and boards under false pretenses, posting a rather formal notice of their hacker's specific methodology, and a fictitious report of the damage inflicted on 'their' network, identifying it as the one they had cleaned. The crowning touch was both a warning of what signs to look for, and a request for any information on the attacker to be forwarded to a specific e-mail address she had created for the purpose. As the first day progressed, she went back on the boards at various times to answer questions, thank those offering information, and keep the topic alive. Given her own relatively shy nature and inexperience at such social manipulations, Niranjana was rather happy with how well she put it together, and how well she kept it going.

Allina's half of the 'bait' step was watching the less legitimate forums and boards, looking for signs of someone warning their opponent of the search for him. She had planned, if no one else caught on, to start sending out carefully worded warnings four hours after Niranjana first posted, figuring it would take that long at the most for word to get around. In the event, and given the rapid and voluble response to Niranjana's efforts, it took a little more than one hour to hit the hacker boards, and warnings and accusations started flying fast and furious.

After that, it was a matter of waiting. Not trusting themselves to catch the hacker in the act, Allina had set her simulated network to trigger Niranjana's carrier-trace program automatically when the ID in question was accessed, and alert her simultaneously. It was a good thing they did, as well, for their opponent did not get around to trying to clean out his traces for a solid day, and they were all on their way to Kyoto when Allina's PDA flashed the notice.

They were sitting next to each other on the bus, using the PDAs to converse silently as the others chattered excitedly, and an innocuous message appeared on Allina's screen. She considered it for a minute, then rolled her head sideways, and asked, "so, do we want to be subtle and slick about this, or do we just want to scare this guy before handing him over to Aria-sensei?"

Niranjana glanced at her sharply, then at the PDA. She frowned for a moment, thinking, then asked, "What would scaring him involve? You have something in mind?"

"Your carrier-trace is running now," Allina said, turning her attention back to the device, "and I've prepped a few programs of my own, just in case. If you want to be subtle and slick, when we get back to the campus, we can use the info your program gathers, slip into his computer, gather all the information we want, and leave without a trace. Then Aria-sensei can unleash Vita and Zafira on the poor slob, and take us some pictures. If you want to have the fun of scaring him ourselves, however, how's this grab you...?"

She held up the PDA, letting Niranjana see the program name and a synopsis. "Gatecrasher – hostile system remote access and remote imaging?" There were two buttons at the bottom, 'execute' and 'cancel'.

"Gatecrasher. Collection of programs, really. First part just brute-forces its way past the target's firewall, gains admin access. Then a second program kicks in and images the entire machine, from current system-state to the entire contents of his hard-drives. Last part's a little number I downloaded called Darik's Boot-n-Nuke, it'll wipe any hard-drive – formats it, writes every bit with a 'one', then formats it again. Doesn't always get that far, but we should at least get system state and machine ID info before he wakes up and kills the power."

Niranjana was uncertain, "What if it's not her machine? What if your program just trashes some poor home PC that he zombified?"

Allina sighed, "Sure, fine, just take all the fun out of it."

Niranjana reached out and tapped 'cancel'. "Subtle and slick, please. I'll let Aria-sensei know the attack is under way, and that we'll identify the perpetrator once we get back home."

"Nah, I can do it from here," Allina said, "It'll just take a little longer."

"No Gatecrasher," Niranjana insisted. She wanted to be sure Allina did not mistakenly destroy an innocent victim's system.

"No Gatecrasher," Allina agreed, "there won't be any traces we were ever in his system."

It took her a grand total of forty minutes, once they had a target, to gain access. Niranjana watched over her shoulder, and was rather shocked by that. All the painfully dull slogging through communications reports, the careful foot-printing of firewalls, the tedious effort of digging through security protocols... and Allina cracked their opponent's computer like an egg. "How did you do that so quickly?"

"Beowulf," Allina muttered back, most of her attention on her PDA. "Two processors 're running the simulation, another's running your carrier-trace program and handling the school's internet flow. The rest are all available for combined hacking, and all the testing programs are automated versions I've picked up here and there. It's also one person's security, and one person's never as good as a network staff. He made mistakes, forgot things, did not have or take the time to properly plan out or test his protections. Just like I said when we found him, an amateurish and arrogant poser." She tapped a few more commands, then leaned back in her seat. "Go ahead and tell Aria-sensei. We'll have everything she could want to know about this guy and more by the time we get back. It's all routing to a folder on the school's network that only she and we will be able to access."

Niranjana sent the message, acknowledged the reply, then leaned back as well, thinking it over. _All this work, all this effort, and just like that..._ "This seems rather anti-climactic."

"Huh?"

"All this," Niranjana said, waving a hand generally, "everything we've spent the last couple of months doing, all the work we put into it, and... it's over, that easily."

Allina chuckled, "nah, it's not over yet. We have to make sure the data we got is good, then make sure we can still get in the guy's system again to prove it, then catch him in real life. Then it'll be over. But yeah, the hard part's done. It's usually like this. Lotsa plodding along, then _bam_, done. But think about it, 'Jana. We just owned this punk, hard. We can do anything we want with him, now, and all he can do is go along. I know four different places I can let this info leak, and no matter where he is in the world, he'll be screwed by the law or worse in a matter of minutes. If he's in the US, God help him, and just as soon as I can, I'm going to let him know it, too. Think about that, and realize that, everything else aside... we done good."

Niranjana did think it over, and realized that Allina was right. They had tackled a difficult problem, worked their way through it, and between them created an effective solution. The implied power did nothing for her, but as she looked back over it and realized what a challenge it had been, she found herself becoming rather pleased with herself.

"By the by," Allina's IM message broke into her thoughts, "I get to call you sister, now. You have successfully penetrated and ravaged multiple computer networks in the space of two months like an old pro. You're now a bonafide h4k0r. Welcome, to the Darkside, sister!:)"

------------------------------

Glossary of Terms:

h4x0rz: 'leet speak' for 'hackers'. Usually used as a joke or insult, since 'leet speak' came out of hacking's early days, but by now has become a painful cliché.

RAID: Redundant Array of independent Discs. A method, either hardware or software, for allowing multiple hard drives to function as a single disc. Some types allow for 'hot swapping' discs, so that if one fails, it can be replaced without having to power down the computer. Allina's network uses RAID 01 ('zero one', not 'one'), which divides the discs into two groups. Each group functions as a single continuous drive (a strip set), which is a precise copy of the other group (a mirror).

ISP: Internet Service Provider, the company which provides the connections between a home or office and the rest of the internet, usually a phone or cable company that owns the physical lines which carry data.

ICANN: Internet Corporation for Assigned Names and Numbers. This is a non-profit corporation that functions as a sort of neutral arbiter of the infamous Internet. ICANN is generally only directly involved in top-level domains .net, etc), and not in the sub-domains (such as this website's domain).

Beowulf: a method of creating a supercomputer from cheap off-the-shelf processors, instead of custom-built (and extremely expensive) machines. Beowulf clusters are groups of common processors that are physically connected, then programmed, to function as a single computer. This allows processes and calculations to be distributed and thus simultaneously worked on by different machines. Beowulf clusters are currently, if I recall correctly, in direct and close competition with Cray-style supercomputers for the title of 'fastest computer ever built'.

Proxy server: a gateway between a private network and the general Internet. Proxy servers are generally set up so that a network only needs to purchase a single public address, which leads to the proxy server, and can then use any of a number of protocols and addressing schemes on the internal network.

Darik's Boot-n-Nuke: real program, available on the web, no kidding. Does exactly what Allina describes, too.


	2. 02 Holiday Surprises

**Holiday Surprises**

An Academy Blues Side Story

By Daishi Prime

Mariachi had Hayate drop him off a few miles from the orphanage, just at the edge of the village that supplied most of the Sisters' needs. It was not that he did not want her to see the orphanage, or anyone at the orphanage to see him. It was simply that he knew he would need some time to get used to Mexico again, to remember the rules and habits which he had set aside while at the Academy.

For Mariachi, there had never been any question of returning. He had escaped, and when he left intended never to return. There was, he had been certain, nothing for him here. But when Vita had asked him if he wanted to return, he had surprised himself by saying 'yes'. Even now that he was here, walking up the street with a duffel bag over one shoulder and his guitar over the other, he was still debating why he was here.

The route to the orphanage took him through the village, which was decorated for the holiday, streamers and banners everywhere, most of the people smiling and chattering happily the day before Christmas. The ones who were not participating, however, were a problem, he could tell. They were paying far too much attention to him, and while they might leave him alone, if they did not recognize him, which was likely, there was too much chance of them trying to hassle him.

Trouble tried to happen as he was leaving the village proper, heading up the road to the orphanage. Two figures detached themselves from the last building, striding along to flank him, and he sighed slightly, "Not looking for trouble, guys. Just going to pay my respects to the Sisters."

"Up to the orphanage, eh? What're you plannin' ta do there, boyo?" The one that spoke, to Mariachi's left, was the seedier looking of the two. A stained tank top above ratty cut-offs, beat up old sneakers, a face that hadn't been shaved in days, and hair that hadn't seen a comb in even longer. The other was bigger, and cleaner looking, at least, but chewing on an unlit cigarette and staring disconcertingly.

"Grew up out there," Mariachi commented, "lucky chance and the music got me out of there back in the summer. Thought I'd go back and lend a hand for a couple weeks. That's all I'm here for, nothing else. Y'all probably won't even see me again."

"That a fact, boyo? Little young to be out and about, eh? Don't you get lonely?"

Mariachi shook his head, "I've never been less lonely. I've no interest in your trades or your routes."

"That a fact? Where you goin' in a couple weeks, then?"

"Back to Japan," Mariachi offered.

"Ha! Japan! How's an orphan kid like you gonna get all the way up to Japan, huh? That's for rich kids. Tell us another one, boyo."

Mariachi stopped in the path, turning to look at the talker. "Gimme a sec and I'll prove it. Deal?" The man nodded, so Mariachi set the duffel on the ground, and reached into his pocket, pulling out the wallet Zafira had given him shortly after he arrived at the school. The velcro-closed tri-fold was marked on the front with Hayate's symbol of crossed sword and staff, which he used for a moment as he focused and built a low-level shield in case these two tried something. He was fairly confident he could get away from these two, well enough to reach the orphanage, which none of the villagers would dare offend, but it never hurt to be prepared. He opened it up, careful not to open the cash pocket, even though it only held a few yen, and pulled out the student ID card he had been issued. "Here," he said, holding it out, "what's that say?"

The man looked at it, frowning in confusion for a moment. Mariachi just waited. Even if he was one of the few people hereabout who could read easily, the card was written in Japanese, which Mariachi only read thanks to Hayate's magic. After a moment, though, the man slowly read off, having a little trouble with pronunciation but still reading it, "Hector, El Mariachi, first year student, Yagami Academy, Kyoto Prefecture, Japan." He blinked in surprise, looking back and forth a few times from the card to Mariachi, matching the picture to the person, then grunted. "Well, damn, kid. You weren't kidding, were you." He gave the card back, smiling slightly, "damn, one of ours off in Japan getting' all fancified. Why'd you come back? Most who get out of here never stop running."

"I owe the Sisters," Mariachi said, glancing at the card as he put it away, to find it now written in Spanish, but slowly fading back to the kanji he remembered, "and they can always use an extra pair of hands."

The other man rumbled, "You any good with that guitar?"

"I'm all right," Mariachi shrugged, "self taught, but no one's ever complained."

"Come down with the Sisters for tomorrow's Mass," the neater man rumbled, "need a musician afterward, now that Isabella's married away, and old Rafael's injured his hand."

Mariachi blinked, then nodded slowly. The Sisters assisted with Mass at the local church regularly, and the orphans had all been required to attend at least once a week, and the Christmas Mass was always followed by a village-wide celebration. But none of the kids were ever allowed to that. "I'll ask the Sisters, but I'm not sure they'll say yes. I'm staying under their roof, so I have to follow their rules, but if they agree, I'll play."

He nodded once, still frowning, but somehow no longer hostile, and walked of without another word. His seedier partner handed Mariachi his duffel, and said, "welcome home, kid. See you tomorrow." Then he, too, wandered off back into the village.

Mariachi watched them go for a few moments, then shrugged and continued towards the orphanage. They had obviously decided he was no threat, which meant he was safe enough, but he was distinctly uncertain what they meant by the invitation to play the next day. That puzzle was enough to distract him until he was walking through the orphanage's open gate, and he was noticed.

"Hector!" It took a second for the name to penetrate his mind, since he only vaguely recognized it as his own. Still he looked up in time to find old Sister Teresa bustling across the yard, a smile on her usually stern face. "Hector, welcome back!

He gave her a polite bow, "Sister, did senorita Yagami warn you I would be coming back for the holiday?"

The old nun, gray haired but still more than vigorous enough to keep her charges in line, pulled him into a hug, "yes, but you've no need to worry about that. We have been so worried about you, young one. So long without even a letter!" She stepped back, holding him at arms length, considering him critically, "it looks like that place has been treating you well. You aren't sickly skinny like most of those foreigners, at least. They let you use a guitar? That's good, you should continue with that gift."

"No, Sister," Mariachi said, smiling at the tone that was at once welcoming and judgmental, "they have not been starving me, and they've let me use one of their guitars." Better not to explain how it had been a gift. For an organization that depended heavily on charity, the Sisters were more than willing to lecture about the need for self-reliance and not accepting gifts. "They've also been teaching me a lot."

"Good, good," Sister Teresa said, smiling again, "come, though, you must be tired after traveling so far. We'll set you up in the guest room – Father Ignatius just finished his monthly visit, so it should be clean and free. Sister Magdalena should be in the classroom with the children right now, she'll be happy to see you as well."

Mariachi was a little uncomfortable to be put up in the orphanage's sole guest room, that had always been reserved for visiting priests come to check on the orphanage. Because of that, he left most of his meager belongings packed, expecting to move back into the dorms, and settled instead for re-tuning the guitar for what he knew would be a long afternoon and evening of music, when a step at the door caught his attention.

Sister Magdalena was standing in the open door, a severe look no her narrow face as she studied him, crouched over his guitar. "Welcome back, Hector," she said after a moment.

"Thank you, Sister," he replied. Sister Teresa was, as nuns went, nice and easy to get along with. Strict, yes, but compassionate. Sister Magdalena was simply strict. She had, as long as he had lived in the orphanage, brooked no variation from the rules of the Church, the rules of the orphanage, and the rules of good behavior, in that order. "Sister Teresa put me in here, ma'am, but I was expecting to be back in the boy's dorm."

Magdalena shook her head, "that would not be appropriate. You are not a ward of the orphanage, any longer. You are welcome to visit, but it would not be appropriate to house you with the other boys. Tell me, though... why did you come back?"

He started to answer, then paused as he realized he still was not sure, and settled for a shrug. "I'm not sure myself, Sister. But I know you can always use an extra pair of hands, and I would have felt an intruder, staying with the teachers over the holidays. I guess... when I think of home, I'm afraid that is still _here_. If you object, I can..."

"Don't be silly, boy. You're here, we'll put you to use. The little ones have been restless recently, Jose lacks your skill with music."

"About that, Sister," he hesitated, not sure how to ask, "I was approached by a couple of the villagers about playing at the festival tomorrow, after Mass. Would that be permitted?" 

"Not surprising, since Rafael got his hand stuck in his tractor's gearing," she frowned at him, "I'm not sure, however. What could possibly be different this year from last year? The Christmas festival can get quite rowdy, and is no place for boys."

Mariachi nodded, "I'll tell them tomorrow I can't make it."

One gray eyebrow rose, "what, no argument?"

Mariachi shook his head, "no, Sister. You just said you don't want me going, so I won't. I told them it was dependant on your approval, so they can't object."

She gave a contemplative hum, then told him, "you can play at the festival, but remember, while you are staying under our roof, you follow our rules. No alcohol, no drugs, no girls, and you are to be back here by sundown. Understood, young man?"

Mariachi was surprised, to say the least. "Sister?"

She snorted, "You're growing up, but you're not there yet, young man. You accepted my decision without trying to argue with me. I remember last year, when you argued with me for days. As I recall, I had to take your precious guitar away for a week. Your lack of argument shows more maturity than you displayed last year, enough that I am willing to give you a chance to prove you can handle it."

"Thank you, Sister," he said, "I... didn't even think of it, it was just..."

She sniffed slightly, "of course not. Men _don't_ think, they act, generally foolishly. For now, however, make yourself useful. The younger children have finished their chores and are out in the yard looking for trouble to get into. Go keep them entertained."

Mariachi could not help smiling. That was more like the Sister Magdalena he remembered. "Yes, Sister."

He found the old bench still set up against the side of the main building, looking over the entire courtyard, and settled into it carefully. Sure enough, the younger kids, under ten years or so, were playing in various ways. None approached him, at first. The few that recognized him probably figured he had been returned and would not be happy about it. But as soon as he began playing, they started drifting closer, even if he was just rambling notes, not playing an actual song. Grinning, he matched the music he was playing to what he could feel inside, creating a little calling pull in the music to bring the kids closer and settle their nerves and energy, feeling again the pride of any self-taught musician when his original audience appreciates him.

_Man, I guess this is why I came home,_ he thought, realizing abruptly that he had done precisely that. When he did start singing, it was a tune Allison had taught him.

"Oh it's home, boys, home,

Hey, home I'd like to be!

Home for a while in the old count-a-ry..."

------------------------------

"Mãe? Do you have a minute?" Allina was hesitant to interrupt, as her mother was working, even the day after Christmas.

"Certainly, Precious, what did you need?" Her mother leaned back from the screen, turning a little to smile at her.

Allina relaxed, ever so slightly, and slipped into the office, hoping up to sit on the edge of the desk. "I'm not sure what to do about a... people problem."

"You're father's better at those than I am," her mother reminded her.

"Yeah, but Pai's not a girl, Mãe."

They both laughed at that, before her mother replied, "no, no he definitely is _not_ a girl, in any way, shape or form."

When her mother stopped chuckling enough to listen, Allina asked, "Do you remember 'Jana? The baby-hacker I've been working with at school?"

Her mother laughed again, "You're a little young to be referring to anyone as a 'baby' anything, Precious. But I remember you mentioning her. I don't remember meeting her in person, though."

Allina shrugged off the age comment and the subtle request for more information, it was enough that her mother knew who she was talking about. "She gave me a Christmas present. Little pest hid it on my PDA the last day of the semester, and wouldn't give me the encryption key until yesterday morning. I was going to give her one, even though she's Hindu, not Catholic. She'd be cool with it. But I'm not sure if what I was going to give her is... enough, any more."

"Compared to what she gave you?" Her mother tapped her on the knee, "remember, it's the thought that counts, the personal meaning, not the gift itself. What did she give you that's so spectacular?"

Allina held out her school PDA, already keyed to Niranjana's 'gift'. "You know how I told you the school has some programming languages that are out of this world? 'Jana took the best of those, the one they use for Intelligent Devices, and re-wrote my hacking suite with it. Didn't do much for the suite's overall power, but look how much smaller it is, how much faster. And it'll interface with any operating system out there. I mean, she had to be working on this for months, Mãe, even though all she did was translation."

Her mother took a minute to look over the programming package, studying not only the interface but the exterior program data and what the PDA would let her access of its internal coding. After a few minutes, she whistled softly. "Eighty percent reduction in size? Thirty percent increase in speed? She cut this to the bone and juiced it on rocket fuel, Precious. I don't know the language she used, but I can still tell this is beautiful work."

"Yeah, she's a genius," Allina smiled at the PDA, obscurely proud at her mother's compliment of 'Jana's work, "real one, too, scores somewhere round two hundred on the IQ tests everyone says are junk. Total software wiz, girl thinks in code sometimes. But you see what I mean? She put a lot of work into this, a _lot _of work. I haven't put anywhere near that much effort into anything for her, and now I'm worried about it."

Mãe gave her a curious look, "What were you planning to give her?"

Allina shrugged, "Just an admin ID on the Beowulf. 'Jana never even heard of them until I mentioned mine, and she's been asking me for anything I can tell her about how the programming side of it works, so I thought she might like to play around with the real thing. She did good when we were using it to catch that noob back in October, so..."

"Wait, wait, wait," her mother interrupted, blinking at her, "you're thinking of _giving _her an _admin _ID on your _Beowulf_? This is the same computer you won't let your father and I touch, the same machine you keep securing against us, and you're _giving _her an _admin_ ID?"

The look in her mother's eyes, and the tone and emphasis she used in her questions, was more than a little confusing. "Umm, yes? You and Pai are teaching me things, trying to hack into the Beowulf, so I can't just let _you _in, but she only wants to look at the software, play with it a little. Why?"

Her mother looked back and forth between her and the PDA for a minute, then her eyes grew even wider, and she _giggled_, "Oh, this is just too _cute_!"

Allin was starting to get seriously nervous. Her mother never acted like this. _I didn't think M__ãe__ even knew what the word 'cute' meant,_ Allina thought, _let alone that she could produce such a... a... __giggly__ voice!_ So it was with some nervousness that she asked, "Mãe? What are you talking about?"

Her mother smiled looked up at her, then leaned forward, wrapping one hand behind Allina's had as she kissed her forehead. When she sat back, she said, "give her the ID, she'll love it. But, and I'm quite serious about this, your father and I insist on meeting her. Do you think you could talk one of your teachers into magicing her over here for a day or so, or should we arrange a little parental visit to your school?"

"Mãe?"

"We want to meet 'Jana, in person, not just over a phone line. Oh, I won't object if you can arrange a video conference or something as well, but we want to meet her in person. Come to think of it, your father has some leave time coming, and it's been a while since we went anywhere interesting, I think Kyoto might be just the thing."

_They want to meet 'Jana? __Why_ For some reason, the idea of her parents meeting 'Jana scared Allina silly. "Mãe, what are you talking about? You can't just show up in Japan! It's _Japan_! It's on the other side of the world!"

Her mother waved that away, "Oh, it'll take us a while to set it up, but we should be able to make it for... oh, March or so. Relax, Allina, I just want to meet the girl that's got my Precious all flustered. Oh, I admit, I'd be happier if you'd picked a boy, but this 'Jana seems like a good foil, so we'll see."

_Picked a __boy_...? That threw Allina's stumbling thoughts for yet another loop, but this one settled quickly on, _Oh, Jesu y Maria, she thinks we're... _"_MÃE_!"

"Oh, don't you 'Mãe' me, Precious. I remember that look you got when I complimented her program. Your father used to get that same silly grin when we were going out, and someone complained to him about getting burned by yours truly."

"Mãe, she's my _sister_!"

"Then you don't have anything to worry about," her mother was still grinning as she turned back to her computer, "now, what's her last name?"

Still flustered and confused by what her mother was suggesting, Allina didn't think before muttering, "Konnoth, handle's are Niranjana-ten-fifty-two or Darth Jana." Then her brain caught up with her mouth, and realized that she probably should not have said that without asking, "Why?!"

"Oh, calm down. I'm just going to do a little preliminary research." One delicately boned hand waved her towards the door, "go set up your 'sister's' ID, Precious. Mãe's working now."

"Mãe, please, you're embarrassing me! 'Jana's just a friend, a good friend, a sister! We're not like _that_!"

"Oh, not yet maybe," her mother agreed, shooting her a grin, "But I bet you'll be meeting her parents soon as well. Which should be amusing. You're so cute when you're trying not to embarrass yourself in front of someone new. Now, seriously... I need to get some work done today if we're going to have the family New Years party here. Go on, scoot."

Allina tried, but trying to maintain an argument her mother considered closed was sort of like trying to stop the ocean's tide with bare hands. Like her mother, the tide merely flowed on, ignoring the obstruction. So she found herself in the hallway staring at a closed door, a sinking sensation of doom in the pit of her stomach. Trying to talk her father out of this, after her mother explained why she wanted to go to Kyoto, would be impossible. If anything, her father would want to go _sooner_.

_Which leaves damage control,_ Allina decided. A quick mental calculation told her 'Jana would probably be up, and she shaped the communications spell carefully, falling back into Japanese without a thought, "'Jana? Nee-chan? I've got a problem."

A moment later, 'Jana's voice sounded in her ear, "Merry Christmas to you, too, Allina."

"Gomen, 'Jana. Happy new year?"

A faint chuckle, "good enough. I was thinking about calling you, as well. I have a problem of my own I need to speak with you about."

"Shoot."

"My parents think you might be a bad influence on me." Allina chuckled at that, but before she could comment, Niranjana dropped a bombshell. "They want to meet you, so they're coming to the school, they're looking at March."

------------------------------

Juliet's walk up the street slowed precipitously when she saw the car parked in front of her parent's house. It was not so much the car itself – expensive though it obviously was, such cars were not uncommon here – as it was the two very large gentlemen standing at either end of it. One of them was staring at her, face blank, eyes hidden behind wide wrap-around sunglasses. He could not have been comfortable, standing in the South African summer sun in a dark suit, but he gave no sign, not even a hint of sweat. The other man was scanning in the other direction.

Frowning in thought, she decided after a moment that they were bodyguards. Continuing her walk at the new, slower, pace, she contemplated, _Who around here needs bodyguards? Mom and Daddy don't know anyone like that. We always go visit Daddy's family, they don't come here, and Mom's family won't have anything to do with us..._

When she came close enough to the car, she realized exactly what they were after. There was a strong feel of magic about it, the sense of quiescent but watchful energy she had learned to recognize as wards. They were nothing much, compared to the arsenal around the Academy, but they were definitely present. _They're here for me,_ she realized, an icicle of fear running down her spine. _But why? Are they the ones who've been harassing Hayate-sensei, or someone else?_ Her right hand crossed over, fingering the small gem suspended from the watchband on her left wrist, and after a brief mental argument, decided to risk it rather than disturb her teachers. _I should have enough time, if I keep it in hand and take it slow,_ she decided, resuming her walk up the street, slowly building up some unobtrusive shields.

The guard, when she passed by on her way to the gate in the fence, merely gave her a polite nod, "Good afternoon, Miss," then turned his attention outwards again.

Inside the fence, Juliet found everything normal, at least in appearance. No more strangers standing about, no obvious damage to the door or house. Still, the entire feel of the situation was setting her nerves on end, and she was seriously expecting to find her parents missing or worse. Part of her wanted to call out and hope for an answer, but she had learned too much discipline, and a little paranoia, these past months in Japan, to react in such a childish manner. Instead she carefully skirted the edge of their fence, around to the back of the house, visually checking windows as she went for any sign of trouble. She reached the back door, and opened it as slowly and quietly as she could, stalking into the house, intending to check every room until she found her parents.

_Wish Allison or Luke were here,_ she thought as she eased the door closed. _Wilderness Girl and the Aussie could be through the whole house in a couple minutes, no one the wiser._ There was no sting in the thought, though a touch of jealousy at the two's ability to, as Luke put it once, "stalk up and bugger a 'roo 'for it knows what's happenin'." _Funny, he never would tell me what 'bugger' meant, though I think I can guess. Who'd want to do that to a kangaroo, anyhow?_

Similarly irrelevant thoughts crowded the back of her mind, just enough distraction to keep her from panicking, as the back rooms of the first floor proved empty. Finally, though, she caught motion in a mirror in the front hall, one her mother used for 'last check' before going out. From her current position, she could just barely see into the living room, well enough to make out her mother and father standing against the far wall, one of his arms comfortingly over her shoulder. Juliet studied that for a moment, and decided that, while they looked concerned, they did not look like they were facing imminent death.

_So, either this is the attackers, and they've got Mom and Daddy scared of what might happen to me, or this is someone local who doesn't like Hayate-sensei, who's got Mom and Daddy scared of what might happen to me. Wonderful._

She was debating how to go in there when a strong but raspy voice ordered, "stop skulking about the house, girl. I know you're home, and I'm too old to waste time waiting for you younglings to make up your flighty little minds. We're in the living room."

That gave her a start, and she almost gave away her position. The authority in the voice, the snap of command, had her picking up one foot before she knew what she was doing. But she stopped herself, and slipped back away from the room, returning to the back of the house and ghosting into the kitchen. Whoever he was, he was too sensitive for her comfort, and she really did not like being told what to do by some random stranger. So she made her way to the basement stairs, gently pulling the door behind her until it was almost closed. Then, using her parents as the focal-point, and shaping it to broadcast instead of focus, she formed the communications spell, including her own little twist – a two-way capability. "Who are you?"

She heard a muffled thud something hit the wall in the living room, and felt a moment's guilt for scaring one or both of her parents. She had demonstrated a little magic for them, but had not used it as routinely as they did at school. Then the same unidentified voice came back, "I am not accustomed to addressing empty air, girl, despite how many of you children use it in place of brains. Come here, where I can see you."

"I'll retain my freedom of action, thanks," Juliet replied, annoyed at being referred to as an airhead. "You won't be seeing me until I'm certain who you are and what you want."

"Someone took you from your proper place and people, girl, and I'm here to see about bringing you back."

That set Juliet's blood to boiling, without much effort. "My _people_?! Which ones?! The ones that shun my mother because she's black? Or the ones who deny her existence because she married a Boer?" Not technically true, her father had never owned any land but the house and she wasn't sure if he was actually of Boer descent, or what his politics or her paternal grandparents' had been back before she was born. But she had heard enough from other kids in school, her old school, and from her relatives on both sides. She had learned to protect herself quite early, and learned that she had no people. "I think I'll stick with the people who accept me for what I am, thanks."

There was a moment of quiet, then, "Mistakes were made all around, girl. I did not create your situation, nor do the small minds that judged you and your mother constitute your people. I am not here for strife or violence. You were taken by stealth, without learning our side of the offer. Now come out here where we can have a civilized conversation, girl. You're scaring your parents."

"You're the one doing that," Juliet snarled back, "take a hike. Come back after you've made an appointment."

"Juliet!" That was her mother's voice, and Juliet could tell from that one word that she was appalled at her daughter's tone. "Get in here right now, miss! He is a guest!"

"There a goon in there with you?"

"Not anymore," the still unidentified man offered, "He is on his way out the front door now."

Sure enough, moments later she heard the sound of the front door open and close. She stuck her head out, very carefully, and saw a shadow briefly in the curtained window in the front door. She debated a moment further, then let the communication spell fade and fingered the gem on her wrist, channeling a little power into it and whispering, "Hayate-sensei, I think I need you."

She felt no flicker in return, had on idea if the gem worked as it was supposed to, but she trusted her teachers enough to have faith that it did. So she sucked in a breath, and ghosted down the hall. By the time she reached it, she had her weapon in hand, her magic on edge, and her arms crossed belligerently. When Signum had taken her and Allison aside to start self-defense training, Allison had recommended that she get her hands on a pocket knife, something innocuous that could be passed off as a 'tool' but also function as a weapon. All she had managed, however, was a couple pounds of lead fishing weights wrapped in a leather tube, to put some serious weight behind her punches. She found it made her feel surprisingly more confident, having even an improvised weapon in hand.

When she stepped into the entry to the living room, her parents were still standing against the wall. Sitting on the couch, hands cupped on the top of a walking-cane set between his feet was an old black man, skin dusky and hair gray with age, staring at her intently. He was physically unimpressive, but the fixed stare was utterly confident. She could sense a probe, a finger of energy, and slammed power to her shields, hard enough they manifested physically as a greenish-yellow haze around her. "Stop that," she ordered, "I'm not one of your people, you can't scan me without my permission."

"You are one of my people," he countered, "despite your beliefs and current teachers."

"But you are not one of her teachers," Signum rumbled, stepping out of nothing to rest a hand on Juliet's shoulder.

The old man's eyes narrowed slightly, then he nodded slowly, "I had wondered how she managed to acquire a daughter of Africa without our noticing, since I know she never came here before our first encounter. I forgot, she had you and your sisters to come skulking in while we were distracted."

Juliet snarled back, "My parent's aren't named Africa, last time I checked. I'm a daughter of Johan and Naledi Van Saar, not Africa."

The steady glare fixed on her again, "You would deny your heritage?"

"Why not? Everyone else does. My heritage is my parents, nothing more."

"Juliet," her father said, walking over finally, "you cannot simply discard your heritage just because of a few hateful children."

"Yes I can, Daddy," she countered, still staring at the old an. "You and Mom are my heritage, not 'Africa', not some people that don't want me until they can take me away from someone else."

"Juliet, Shaman Ndebele can teach you so much," Her mother, unlike her father, did not stop until she had Juliet by the arm, pulling her towards a seat opposite the couch. Juliet let herself be dragged but remained standing, as her mother continued, "I know things have been difficult in the past, but all that would stop if you were under his guidance. It is a great honor, he rarely even meets with those outside his inner circle, let alone offering to arrange their education. You would have just as good an education as Miss Yagami's school can offer."

Juliet just shrugged, making sure Signum was not leaving with a glance. Her teacher was merely standing there, arms crossed, watching the Shaman watch Juliet. "So where was he last summer, huh? Or the year before that? He's had lots of time to make his offer, and never bothered until after Hayate-sensei made hers. Like I said, I'm only interesting to him when I can be taken away from someone else. A counter in a_ game _I'm not interested in playing."

"You are no game counter, girl," Ndebele countered, "I may have my games, but I do not play them with children, nor against those who are not equipped to play back. Your teachers, yes. You, no. You would not be a challenge. I did not locate you previously because your mother's family is, quite frankly, rabidly insular and judgmental, and in the circles I move in, won't even admit to your mother's existence, let alone yours. For all our ancient ways, we rely on tracing bloodlines, family pride and rumors to find those in need of training, which methods have served us well for centuries. They failed in your case, through no fault of mine."

"Shamal-sensei found me pretty easily, found all of us and more besides."

He barked a laugh, "Yes, yes she did. She also has a satellite network watching over the entire world, girl. Hard to match that kind of sensory ability, even when you're as old and wily as I am. Mistakes were made, all around. Personally, I think your parents' relationship is a mistake, but it's their's to make, and they've made the best of it, so I've nothing to say there. On the other hand, I think your attendance at the Yagami Academy is a mistake, and that one does affect me. You are of Africa, girl, whatever you think. When you finish there, where will you go? Most likely, right back here. Which means, whatever you think or intend, you are going to have to deal with me and mine, and we with you. It would be better for everyone... for you, for me, for my fellows, for Africa... if you were trained in traditions that we know work, that we know will safeguard our land, rather than this foreign magery that has yet to prove itself anything but yet another western method for destroying the world."

"Not interested," Juliet snapped back. "Africa's never done anything for me, you've never done anything for me, so why should I do anything for you? You're right, I'll probably be back here after I graduate, but so what? This is a free country, ji-ji. If you want a piece of me then, you'll be welcome to try. Same now."

His eyes narrowed, and his voice was suddenly very soft, "Are you challenging me girl?"

"Damn right I am!"

"Juliet! Don't curse!"

"Yell at me later, Daddy," she replied. "Ji-ji wants to dance."

He continued to glare at her, and she kept glaring right back, waiting for him to make a move. She had no idea how strong he was, or how skilled, and knew challenging him was reckless, almost as reckless as Laura's stunts, but she was too angry, at his insulting assumption of superiority and how scared of him her parents were, to think clearly. The clearest thought in her mind was something Signum had told her and Allison. "We've encountered several Terran mages now, of multiple styles. They all share a few common habits and traits, whatever their claims. The most important for what I'm trying to teach you is that their methods of shielding are flawed. While they have demonstrated shields as strong as any you can produce, they are only shields against one thing or another. Their shields against magic have done little to nothing to stop physical attacks, and vice versa." Which had been a surprise, given that Lotte-sensei had trained them from the start to build one shield against both threats.

_If he takes me up on it,_ she decided, _I have to convince him it'll be a pure mage fight, magic versus magic. _ _Then hit him while he's not looking._

After a moment, he smiled widely, showing perfectly even white teeth, "It's a good thing for you this is Africa girl, and I'm no mage. One of those thick-skulled western mages would take you up on that, show you just how much you've got to learn."

She snorted derisively, "You can't teach me anything Hayate-sensei can't teach me better. I'm going back there, not staying here."

"That is actually not your decision to make, girl. I asked out of politeness and curiosity. Your parents will make that decision, and I think they've already made up their minds."

Juliet shook her head, "They can tell me what to do, sure, and they can wrap me up in chains and hand deliver me to whatever prison you think you're going to teach me in. And I'll be there just long enough to escape. I know a lot of tricks, ways of using magic to get in and out of places, that I seriously doubt you know. You won't be able to hold me."

"You aren't that good, girl," he replied easily, smile shifting to a dismissive sneer, "Fourteenth in a class of sixteen. Not exactly a stellar performance."

"Bull," she shot back, just barely managing to keep from swearing in front of her parents again. "Fourteenth in a class of _millions_. Hayate-sensei picked and chose, took the best in our ages from all over the world. I could flunk out and still be better than the kids she passed over."

"You would defy your parents?"

"Why not? You're not respecting them, coming in here with your bully-boys and trying to scare them into forking me over like a mindless hunk of meat. I've made my choice, I know where my future lies, with people who accept me for what I am, instead of those who hate me for half my blood."

He chuckled again, sneer shifting back to full smile, "Good, then. See, Juliet, that's the thing that's been missing in this country for a good long while. _Righteous backbone_, and the pride that goes with it. The gumption to stand up for what's right, instead of what's easy, and damn the consequences." He shoved himself out of his chair, leaning heavily on the cane. "Go on back to Japan. Learn whatever you like. But you remember that righteous backbone, Juliet, and we'll get along just fine when you come back."

He started for the door, then stopped next to Signum, craning his neck up to look at her. "You've been quiet, pretty. Thought you were here to protect her, eh?"

Signum quirked an expressive eyebrow in a chastising manner, "Juliet is quite capable of presenting her own case. I am merely here to insure that any argument is strictly verbal. I would not have allowed her to battle you, for instance. Though, I would like to add that you made the right decision. Our students are all creative and motivated. If they thought she was being held against her will, they would come for her, even after she escaped."

"Hah, be good practice, for all of 'em, wouldn't it? Just remember, if she looses that spine, I'm taking her back."

-----------------------------

Translations:

Mãe – Mother, in Brazilian Portuguese.

Pai – Father, in Brazilian Portuguese.

Noob – an insulting term for someone new at a task (and thus unskilled), usually implies incurable stupidity.

Naledi – A South African girl's name meaning 'star'

Ji-ji – a Japanese term meaning, roughly, 'old man'. I've generally seen it used as a mild insult.

Author's notes:

0) This was supposed to be the 3rd or 4th Side Story, but... al three scenes got stuck in my head while writing Academy Blues Chapter 19, so now (hopefully) they're stuck in yours. I do have one other Side Story half-written, and another planned, which just goes to show how short my attention span is, since this was supposed to be updated once in a blue moon.

1) I updated h4k0rz with a list of some network/Internet terminology I used in the story. Apologies to the non-techno-geeks who read it and were confused.

2) The song Mariachi starts singing is, once again, a real song. It's off a record (vinyl, spinning disc, makes noise when you put a needle in the grooves…:) my father has of an Australian folk band singing Irish & Australian folk music. I believe the group was called 'The Bushwhakers', but the name of the song escapes me.

3) Allina's name is a variation on Alana, which means 'Precious', hence her mother continuously calling her that. It is _**NOT**_ a reference to a certain infamous adventure trilogy.

4) Allina's and Niranjana's relationship is a matter of debate. I hadn't intended any such suggestion, but as I pictured Allina telling her parents about 'Jana, I remembered a few of jokes along similar lines that my parents have made at my expense. Are Allina and 'Jana, or could they be, an item? Haven't the foggiest! I'll figure it out later.

5) South African Summer - in case anyone's confused, South Africa (and Brazil, the Philippines & Australia, for that matter), due to their position in the southern hemisphere, have Christmas in the middle of summer.

6) Racism – I do not know how widespread and/or virulent racism of the type described above is in South Africa, but I can't imagine a society completely switching gears from Apartheid to flowers-and-sunshine in a couple measly decades. Apologies if I'm offending anyone, but I remember my own childhood experiences here in the US, (where we've had a few decades more to try and get over it) and they were quite similar, if for different reasons. The point of Juliet's family predicament is not to judge or insult, merely to give a basis for her character and personality.

7) Ndebele – this is actually the name of a people from northern Zimbabwe. As for whether Naledi uses it as a reference to the Shaman's people, or if it's his name, or has some other meaning, that's a good question, now isn't it?

-----------------------------

AceStarLeaf: Glad you enjoyed the last chapter. I don't have any plans for whoever the 'noob' was, mostly because he/she/it served my purposes already. Never even heard of Uplink, I'm afraid, most of last chapter was based on my own information technology training.

Kell Shock: I'm afraid I stole the application of that reference from one of my IT teachers. Most hackers are referred to as 'black hats', but he preferred 'darksiders', and I'm enough of a Star Wars fanboy to prefer that as well.

CrimsonDX: Glad you liked it, it was more fun to write than I expected (hence Allina & Niranjana being included again here). I know the above wasn't much of Mariachi, but he has a part to play in the main story, though I may give his view of it here instead of there. Unfortunately, that won't be until later, since doing anything with it soon would reveal the main story's plot! Same for Cid-chan, I'm afraid, only more so.

Eni Li'Nave: I post in a couple of fandoms (primarily Naruto and here), so that's where a lot of my other stories end up. Also, most of my 'other projects' recently haven't been post-worthy, though I am re-working one of them to make it so. I wasn't expecting this either, but was re-reading AB and found myself wondering about a scene early on that mentions Allina & Niranjana doing something together. Ideas spiraled from there. I had originally planned to explore each of the students in the main story, and not really have a 'running plot' for that, but the idea of the Circles cropped up too strong, and I wound up focusing on the trio almost to the exclusion of the other students. So yeah, this is separated to let me explore the other kids without having to disrupt the main story with random scenes. Keeping track of details is actually fairly random for me… I haven't referenced my outline for AB since about chapter four or five, if then. I had originally planned for the hacker to be a Circle operative, but then lost track of it until I went back and re-read. Rather than de-rail or over-complicate the main plot, I decided to side-track that detail here, which then helps to create continuity between AB and Side Stories. As for the _level_ of detail… two of my favorite authors are Tom Clancy and David Weber, both of whom provide sometimes terrifying levels of detail in their books (as an aside, I obstinately refuse to read Dan Brown, after spending a year being told by everyone and their brother, "you'll love his books"… didn't have the time then and got tired of being harped on for it:). I do actually have an idea for a story on Noah, but as with CrimsonDX's request for more on Mariachi, it'll have to wait, since it's set in as-yet-un-posted part of AB.

TheWhiteMonk: yup, if enough people yell at me, I'll listen:). I added the terminology explanation to last chapter for you, if you're still confused &/or curious.

Liingo: You're welcome! This is actually, as I mentioned to Eni Li'Nave, what AB was supposed to be originally, seeing what a bunch of kids with no tradition of magic get up to when given what amounts to free reign.


	3. 03 Hengeyokai Queen

**Hengeyokai Queen**

An Academy Blues Side Story

By Daishi Prime

Megan had always been the odd-duck of her family. She was never really a 'black sheep', never ostracized or made to feel weird, she just _was_ weird. Alone of her cousins, Megan had no siblings, but since most of her extended family lived in a ten-block radius, she often felt like she did. She had cousins decades older, and less than a year old, as well as a full gamut of aunts, uncles, grandparents, in-laws and pseudo-relatives – friends of family who were effectively adopted. Where other people complained about 'the kids running off to the city', her family tended to complain of them bringing tag-alongs home. The hoary old chestnut about, "it followed me home, can I keep it," was said, not entirely in jest, to apply to people, rather than pets, in her family.

Her cousins, each and every one, were practical types. They were interested in business and science, planning to, like their parents, take the Tube into London to work, but still live in 'the country'. Megan, in contrast, was interested in myths and legends, in the Sidhe and werewolves and ghosts. When her cousins talked about boys and girls and movies, she talked about books and magic and mysterious events. That got her teased, but she learned very quickly that, when it was family, she was allowed to give as good as she got. The one thing she never shared, however, was her personal conviction that she was a changeling – it was the only rational explanation her five-year-old mind could come up with at the time, for why she was so different from the rest of her family, and the years since she arrived at that conclusion had done little to disprove it.

She was never made to feel like she did not belong, only that she was a little off. There was, according to her mother, one Somersby in every generation like her, the only ones to ever move away. She supposedly had an uncle and a great-uncle who had been just as strange as she was, the elder retired in Scotland, the younger serving in a foreign peace-keeping organization of some sort.

One afternoon, a few days after her ninth birthday, she had been in the school yard when an event occurred that forever cemented her interest into near obsession. She had felt strange for several minutes, alternately chilled and enervated, strange enough that she had not actually been enjoying he recess break. She had seen something odd, a flickering of strange light off in the distance near the Stonehenge monument. Then sheer blackness erupted, a spiraling of growing darkness that _everyone _could see, which eventually spread out to cover a frighteningly large area, accompanied by a terrible rumbling loud enough to shake the school windows from miles away.

During the strange storm, she had felt hideously sick, but as soon as it was over, she had rushed down with everyone else to see what was going on. None of the teachers had objected, they had been right behind their students. The crowd and hemmed and hawed and bemoaned the terrible damage, wondering where it had come from, what the strange storm had been. There was no trace of anything or anyone that might have provided a rational explanation. No planes overhead to drop a bomb, no vehicle to drive one in, no people to detonate either. It rapidly became the biggest subject of debate, and the second-biggest unsolved mystery of the town, after the Henge itself.

Megan knew what it was, from the instant that first fountain of black had appeared. It was no bomb, no technological marvel. It had been magic, _real _magic. She was certain of that right down to her bones, and determined to prove it. A few months later, someone bought a small parcel of land on a hill overlooking the Henge, tore down the house which had been there, and in its place erected a statue of an unknown sword-bearing woman, surrounded by a field of wild roses. Megan soon found that it was her favorite place to get outside, strangely calm and peaceful. Once she thought she saw a girl in white praying at the statue, but by the time she got there, the girl was gone.

When Signum and Shamal showed up at her family's door, with their offer of full scholarship to the Yagami Academy in Japan, it had turned into an all-relative get-together, and the two women had been required to go through their presentation several times as people came and went. The resultant party, coming as it did on the first non-business day of summer, had turned into an impromptu family reunion (not that any of them ever went more than a few days without seeing each other), and a raucous debate had carried on into the night. The idea of sending one of 'their precious little girls' that far away was unpopular, but the opportunity was too good to pass up.

Megan had, at first, been extremely reluctant. She spoke not a word of Japanese, knew very little about their mythologies, and even less about the culture. But Shamal had taken her aside, when it became clear just how big a gathering this was going to turn into, and shown her something awe-inspiring. Just a simple green sphere of light, it had no source, merely floated in Megan's cupped hands shedding a soft warmth, until Shamal dismissed it. After that, she did not care in the slightest about Japan, her family's doubts, or the fact that she would have to spend several years on the far side of the world. It would have taken an act of God to keep her out of that school, and she bent every effort to get her family to agree.

In the end, it had been Shamal who convinced her parents to let her stay, during the week-long orientation tour. Her calm assurance on all subjects had convinced them that Megan would be safe and happy, where the other teachers had only been able to assure her safety. Megan had been more interested in Zafira, and the Lieze twins. She had not been able to determine what was off about them, but she had known there was something. Every time she looked at them, she could see a weird shimmer, as if they were covered in glitter, and she swore she saw a cat's tale on Aria's reflection in a mirror at one point.

That was confirmed the first day of classes, and for most of the first week, Megan had to struggle not to pester the three familiars asking questions, because the three of them shared an ability she desperately wanted to learn – shape-shifting. Of everything magic promised, that was what attracted Megan the most, the ability to turn into any sort of creature, to become the mythical being she still half-believed she was.

It took Megan the better part of the first month to determine that, however strong her motivation, she could not accomplish her goal on her own. She could find all sorts of reference material on how to shape-shift, but all of it dealt solely with familiars. It seemed that, as a standard practice for the convenience of their masters, all familiars were designed to shape-shift, though some, like Zafira-sensei, took it further than others. All her research also made it clear that no single mage had ever accomplished the feat without decades of effort, or a lot of help.

At first, Megan thought of asking Noriko or Niranjana for help. The two girls were both older and demonstrably smarter, at least in her opinion, so if anyone could help, it would be them. Asking the teachers was a possibility, but... what if they thought she was weird, or crazy? For some reason, while having her family think that had never bothered her in the slightest, she could not stand the idea of being seen so by her teachers. But Noriko was involved in a project with Laura and Yussef, and when not working on that she was usually studying or tutoring. Niranjana was the same, though her partner was Allina. Cidela would vanish for hours on end, and none of the others had the sort of interests and intelligence to be able to help her.

Finally, however, she managed to work up the courage to stay after class, and ask the teacher most likely to help her. "Ano, Lotte-sensei?"

The cat-woman stopped in the hall, cocking her head to one side as she asked, "Hai, Megan-chan?" 

"I... um... I wanted to ask about... something." She could feel herself blushing, embarrassment at asking compounded by embarrassment at stuttering. Still, she managed to force out in a rush, "Can you shape-shift and can you show me how to?" Lotte blinked at her, and for a moment Megan thought she was going to laugh. That had been her family's response, when she told them she wished she was a werewolf. Then the girl realized that, rather than being amused, Lotte seemed more stunned than anything. "Please? It should be possible, right? Since familiars can manage it, it is possible."

"Ah, Megan..." Lotte paused, then coughed a little, and reached out to hold her shoulder, "that's kinda a familiar thing. We can do it, because we are designed to. Altering a human body that way, though... I don't think it's possible."

Megan could feel herself deflating, her shoulders slumping. _It would be so cool,_ she thought plaintively, _not to be stuck like this all the time._

"There might be a way around it," Lotte mused a moment later. "Lemme think about this for a minute. I remember something..." Megan nodded, and just stood there as her teacher pulled her into a hug, turning Megan about and holding her close. Finally, Lotte resumed, "there are magical traditions that draw on animal aspects, spirits, totems, whatever you want to call them. They're usually just ways to picture the magic working, to help focus the mage's energies. Like the runes and sigils we'll be teaching you, but not as effective, usually, not as flexible. We'll talk to Aria about it." 

Aria, naturally enough, was sitting in the dining hall, waiting for dinner to start, reading. She listened politely to Lotte's explanation of what Megan wanted to try, and her ideas on how to go about it. She was even polite enough to listen as the three of them acquired and began eating dinner. When Lotte finally wound down, having waited patiently knowing how futile it was to interrupt her sister, Aria just said, "I am ashamed of you, onee-chan."

Lotte blinked at her, "What?!"

"Ashamed, truly and deeply. The answer is obvious, and you and I have worked with him for years, off and on. He taught me quite a lot about library searches, remember?"

Lotte looked at her uncomprehendingly for a minute, then groaned and slapped her forehead. "Of _course_! Yuuno-kun! That's why Vita's always calling him 'ferret-boy'! How could I forget Yuuno-kun? He's almost as much fun to tease as Chrono-kun."

"Hmm, yes, he is a nice boy," Aria agreed, then turned her attention to Megan. "Yuuno-kun is somewhat famous for his ability to transform into a ferret, and he is no familiar."

"Acts like one, half the time," Lotte commented.

"True, but husbands are supposed to do that for their wives, ne? We'll call him, to see if he can provide information. He has a lot of responsibilities, so I do not think he will be able to conduct any personal lessons, but we shall see."

Megan was on cloud nine for the rest of the night.

------------------------------

It took a few days for Yuuno to put together a package of training manuals for her, along with a rather amused video-note about 'someone forgetting something'. When it did finally arrive, Lotte scheduled Megan for a few hours in one of the small workrooms on a Sunday morning. While the rather substantial package of information was transferred to Megan's PDA, Lotte explained, "I was thinking of teaching you two things. The first is the shape-shifting you originally wanted, but I'd also like to explore my original idea. Manifesting certain magical effects through a totemic pattern."

"Okay," Megan agreed, slowly but more because she was not paying attention. _Anything_ that let her learn to shape-shift was fine with her. "So, how do we start?"

"Well, according to Yuuno-kun, it's not so much a matter of knowing where you're going, as knowing where you are."

Megan blinked at her for a second, then, "Oh, I need to know the body I'm changing, before I can change it into something else?"

"Something like that," Lotte agreed happily. "Smart girl. Unfortunately for the both of us, though, that means a lot of time doing boring meditations, trying to get your mind to catalog your body."

"Do you do that, Lotte-sensei?"

Lotte shrugged, "I guess. Remember, Megan, shape-shifting is built into familiars, it's instinct for us. You're going to have to learn how to actually _do_ it."

That proved to be a daunting task, and Megan eventually had to sit in on a couple of Shamal's lessons for Cidela before she finally achieved enough understanding of her own body to satisfy Lotte that she was ready for the next step. It was more information on biology, and about herself, than she was really comfortable with, but it got her closer to her goal, and now that it seemed to be truly within reach, Megan was more determined than ever to achieve it.

The long delay in learning herself also meant working on Lotte's idea, channeling magical energy into animalistic manifestations. Given her teacher, Megan was not surprised to find herself learning to wrap her hands in claws of pure magic, but a few of the other things they tried were… strange. Lenses of energy over her eyes that mimicked the light-gathering properties of cat eyes were cool, making her own eyes glow a weird yellow-green. The hearing-amplification spell proved to be embarrassing, though, huge triangular projections of energy off the side of her head that, while effective, made her look like the victim of a bad cosplay-fanatic.

Finally, though, Lotte decided she knew herself well enough to go to the next step. "Okay, chibi-nee-chan," Lotte said, curling into a chair in the library, after showing up five minutes late for their agreed meeting, "Shamal-san says you're ready to go on, and I agree, so... are you ready?"

Megan was practically bouncing with excitement. She had read the entire manual provided by Scrya-san, but had not dared try anything without Lotte's presence, since she was fairly certain the manual did not contain everything. "Of course! I've been ready for..." Lotte cut her off by plunking a book in her lap. Megan blinked at it for a second, "Encyclopedia of Terran Animal Life? Lotte-sensei?"

"Well, now that you're ready for the next step, that's the next step. Picking a form to shift into. After all, if you need to know where you are, to figure out where you're going, then obviously you need to know where you're going in order to get back to where you are, right?"

Megan looked back and forth from Lotte to the book for a few seconds, deciphering that convoluted statement, then nodded, "Right, I can see that. But how am I going to know that form without actually taking it? I mean, most of what I've learned about myself I did through actually studying myself, but I can't do that with a form I'm not in, and you already told me familiars are too different for me to study you."

Lotte smiled, snaking out one hand to ruffle Megan's hair. "I know that, but since you're shifting to a form from your native world, a lot of what you learned about your own biology will translate over. The trick is going to be keeping your mind intact in the animal form. You're going to have to play fast and loose with the transformed brain, but it's possible, just a matter of attention. Other than that, it should be simple enough. What we're going to do now is pick one form, and figure out how that differs from 'you'. That way, when you do transform, we should be able to get you back to normal in short order."

Megan flipped the book open, guessing at where, and found her luck holding. She only had to flip a few pages to find what she was looking for. "That," she said, tapping her finger on the half-page illustration.

"A puppy dog? Why would you want to be a _dog_?" Lotte sounded almost disgusted, then half-rolled in her chair, stuck her nose haughtily in the air, and announced, "Cats are obviously superior to dogs, Megan-chan."

"Not a puppy, a timber wolf. Wolves are more my style, Lotte-sensei, since cats aren't werewolves." Megan replied, grinning at her teacher's assumed airs, "and besides, cats have no stamina. A wolf can run forever."

Lotte sighed heavily, shaking her head, arguing and pleading the whole way, but she eventually caved and agreed to teach Megan how to shift into a wolf. "One condition," she demanded finally, "you do not, ever, under any circumstances, chase me! Zafira's housebroken, but I've had enough trouble with one of you chibis already, I don't need a puppy trying to chew on my tail as well."

Megan had to laugh at that, remembering Laura's occasional attempts to catch Lotte's or Aria's tails during the orientation week, and answered, "I promise not to chase you or Aria-sensei while a wolf."

"Oh, no! No, no, no! You can chase Aria all you like. In fact, I encourage it." That dangerous grin of hers appeared, "she has this thing about dogs. You should see her face when one's chasing her... it's priceless!"

As Lotte had promised learning the differences of the wolf form was relatively straightforward, as much a matter of senses as structure, though Megan saw no reason to make herself color-blind, however much she wanted to maintain the verisimilitude of the transformation. It had taken the better part of two months to complete the first stage of her training, it took less than a week to complete the second. Then came preparing for the actual shift itself, which made Megan the first in the class to learn the Midchildan sigils, though Lotte only taught her the specific sets needed for transformation.

"Like barriers, shape-shifting takes very little energy for its effects," Lotte explained one afternoon the week after their return from Kyoto, waiting until the rest of her class had already left. "What it takes is precision and simultaneous action. You have to do everything precisely right, and do it all at once. Which is actually easier than it sounds. Yuuno-kun managed it once while gravely injured, after all. So, you know yourself, you know the form you want, and you know how to go about getting there. All that's left is to see if you can actually do it."

Which, as usual with Lotte's idea of 'easy', proved far more difficult in practice than in theory. Megan could manage the precision, and the power, but she had trouble holding all of it together at once, long enough for the spell to stabilize and become self-completing as it was supposed to. By the time Lotte called it quits for the day, she had only managed to get halfway there, getting the spell to begin coalescing, but not quite to the point of completion.

That joyous event came two days later, at their next session. It took several tries, and on the fifth she thought she was going to fall just short again but carried on, trying to get as far as possible, and suddenly the strain of it eased, the sense of unstable power solidified, and then she felt herself... flowing... her body changing and altering as the spell took hold of her. It was not a painful experience, nor even upsetting, it simply... happened, her body reformed itself to her will, shifting seamlessly. When she opened her eyes, the world was oddly distorted, everything looked taller, and the stench in the room was unbelievable.

A high-pitched squeal made her jump and flatten her ears, but she had not even landed before Lotte tackled her, causing her to loose her disconcertingly stable footing. It had felt like she was falling forward, even though she was not moving at all, at least until her teacher hit her and knocked the two of them to the floor. They did not tumble, precisely, there was not enough velocity, but it still knocked her breath out, leaving insensate and twitching for a few seconds.

When she regained her senses, she could hear Lotte muttering happily along the lines of, "good job," and, "that's my girl," with the occasional, "even if you are a smelly dog," thrown in for good measure. Struggling a little, Megan managed to get free and get her feet under her, but her attempts to reply were... less than intelligible, coming out as a series of yips and growls.

"Mentally, chibi-nee-chan, mentally," Lotte reminded her, "you can't send yet, but I can read you if you think loud enough."

_This feels strange, sensei,_ Megan thought. She had not managed to learn how to send telepathically, despite Lotte's attempts to teach her in preparation to her first shift. That was annoying, but at the moment all she could feel was joy... and discomfort at being unable to balance properly.

"You'll get used to it. You're not used to walking on all fours, Megan-chan, but you did it for months as a baby. You'll remember in a bit."

Sure enough, Megan soon got her balance back, so long as she did not move above a walk. Any higher, and she had to rely on her new tail for balance, but that turned out to require a set of skills she was sorely lacking in. Practice would make perfect, but she was more than pleased that this first shift was done in private, just her and Lotte.

Which thought, predictably, was quickly dashed. Lotte watched her complete a shift back to human, then back to wolf, and caroled, "wonderful! Now you're ready to show off! Come on, everyone else should be up at the house by now."

_D... do we have to, sensei? I don't think..._

"Nonsense! No one's going to make fun of you, chibi-nee-chan, they'll be ridiculously proud of you for this!"

_And of you,_ Megan added, though she did her best _not _to send that thought out. Further argument proved fruitless, and she soon found herself prowling up what Laura had named 'The Forbidden Road' from the campus to Hayate-sensei's house. It was a conflicting experience for her. Part of her was utterly terrified to be going up there, since it was commonly believed to be both the most heavily fortified place on campus, and utterly forbidden to the 'lowly students'. None of the teachers had ever actually _said _that, but amongst the students it was simply _understood_, accepted without question. So she was frightened enough to try and stick as close to Lotte as possible, practically tripping the woman.

Conversely, the world appeared so radically different to her altered senses. She could smell not only Lotte and the scent of evergreens in fall, but her fellow students, her teachers, the local wildlife. It seemed like she could smell everything in the world, a bouquet more confusing than any concert's cacophony. When a small rodent, she could not tell what it was in the growing darkness, darted across the path ahead of them, she found herself in the undergrowth before she even thought. When she slipped out, feeling more than a little sheepish, it was to find Lotte almost laughing at her.

The reached the house, finally, and Lotte called out as they entered, "I'm home! Oi, Aria-nee-chan, I brought a surprise for you!" Remembering the eagerness with which Lotte had told her to chase Aria, Megan would have been just as happy not to have to do this, but it was too late now. It did explain, though, why Lotte had insisted on her staying in her wolf form for the walk up, and why she insisted on doing this now. It gave her a chance to scare her sister.

Still, she was committed, so she followed Lotte down the short hall into the living room, where she found Signum watching the news. Hayate and Shamal were both visible in the kitchen giving her a surprised look, but Megan barely spared a glance at the two. She was more looking for Aria, hoping against hope, only to find her back down the hall, standing stock still, staring back at Megan. Aria's eyes grew wider, and Megan heard Lotte just barely suppressing her giggles, then Aria shrieked and ran, and Megan had just a bare second to realize Aria had yelled, "A puppy! Lotte you got me a puppy!" Then her quiet, staid, scholarly teacher tackled her harder than Lotte had, and this time the two of them did tumble, sliding across Hayate's carpet until they fetched up against the end of the couch.

_Gah, Lotte's grip was bad enough,_ Megan thought, trying desperately to escape the crushing hug,_ but this is ridiculous!_ Aria was snuggling into her back, muttering about how happy she was, how cute a dog Megan was, how much fun they would have, and so on in a similar vein. Megan could not help growling, but it was aimed more at Lotte, who was also rolling on the floor, laughing her head off.

"Aria. Aria! Let her go, Aria!" It took a few more commands from Hayate, as well as a touch on her shoulder, before Aria finally relaxed her grip, and Megan bolted, scampering across the room to hide behind Shamal, panting to try and get her breath back.

Aria watched her go with such a forlorn expression, Megan almost forgave her the bruising. "Ohhh, I scared her," Aria said, then held out one hand, crouching, "I'm sorry, puppy, I didn't mean to..."

"Megan," Hayate said, smiling slightly, "shift back please."

Aria's face fell, then, as Megan managed to get enough composure back to shift to human form again, she blushed in embarrassment, then fled the room past a still laughing Lotte. "That was mean, Lotte-sensei," Megan muttered from where she was crouched on the floor, still next to Shamal, "to both of us."

"I'm sorry," Lotte finally managed, "but I never could pull one over on her. This was too good an opportunity to pass up. She's had this thing for dogs since we were made, but Graham-sama never let her have one."

"That was cruel, Lotte," Hayate said, "she did not deserve to be embarrassed like that."

Lotte's ears actually fell at that, and this time she sounded sincere. "I know, I'm sorry. I didn't expect her to react that energetically. Come on, Hayate-sama, that's how I act, not Aria. I thought she'd just want to pat her and keep her and call her silly names."

"Go find her and apologize," Hayate ordered, and Lotte scampered after her sister, tail dragging.

"I'm sorry, Hayate-sensei," Megan said, feeling her guilty for her part, "She told me... no, she suggested that Aria was afraid of dogs, but she wouldn't let me change back until we got here."

"It's not your fault, Megan," Shamal said, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders, "Aria and Lotte are sisters, and sisters play jokes on each other. This one just got out of hand. Aria will understand."

"That is very impressive, though," Hayate said, reaching down to pull her up to her feet, "you managed your shift very smoothly."

Megan smiled brightly at that, feeling a glow of pride and pleasure at the compliment, "it was great, Hayate-sensei. I can shift into almost anything, now."

"I'm a little jealous," Hayate confessed, "I still have not learned how to do that with the Deva magic. Have a seat, tell us about it while we wait for Aria to come back."

------------------------------

Aria managed to show her face again that evening, and accepted Megan's apologies, though Aria put the blame entirely on her sister and blatantly ignored Lotte for the rest of the evening. Still, things were back to normal by the next day, and none of them ever mentioned that scene again, much to Megan's comfort.

At her request, none of the teachers let slip that she had succeeded, though Cidela and Noriko knew she had been trying to shape-shift. It became her happy little secret, that she would reveal when she was good and ready. She also kept up her lessons with Lotte, learning to better control the shift, to assume other forms, and to do all of it faster. At Lotte's insistence, she did learn a feline form, though after Kyoto she chose a more substantial feline than Lotte's preferred house-cat. She did learn to assume the shapes of several smaller animals before Winter Break rolled around, for flexibility, but she was unwilling to trust Lotte not to turn her into a pet if she chose an obvious pet-like form. None of the forms, surprisingly, gave her as much trouble as the wolf had, which she put down to now knowing what she was doing.

It was the last class day before finals that Lotte surprised her. She had finally managed to shift into an eagle, the radical alteration of arm to wing giving her some trouble, though still not as much as her original transformation. Lotte had no idea how to teach her to fly with her new wings, but a few experiments gave her the basics of gliding, at least, though her landings left a lot to be desired. Still, she had managed it, and would probably have plenty of chances to practice over vacation.

"You know," Lotte said, once she had shifted back, "you've been setting some pretty impressive records her, chibi-nee-chan."

Finishing a pull from her water bottle, mind still mostly puzzling how to control her flight, Megan replied, "I have? Like what?"

"Bureau record for learning new forms is four in four months," Lotte told her, helping herself to Megan's water. "Yuuno-kun set it, shark, hawk, leopard and dog, in that order. You've learned five in three months, since I didn't start actually teaching you until October, and your shifts are measurably easier each time. The first magic Yuuno-kun learned, according to him, was shape-shifting, and he was popping in and out of ferret form for years before he met Nanoha-chan, so he's an expert. He couldn't manage ferret as quickly as you currently manage wolf for months. You're also shifting from animal to animal without returning to your natural shape first, which Yuuno says is flat out impossible. He wants you to show him how, by the way. I'd say that qualifies as 'setting records'. I think we'll have Shamal-san take a look at you when we get back. Laura's got that gift for sensing dimensional anomalies, Cid-chan for healing, Noriko for being bossy. I bet your gift's for shape-shifting. Hengeyokai in truth."

"Hengeyokai?" Megan thought she knew Japanese, but that word stuck in her head, refusing to clarify, "what's that?"

Lotte grinned wider, and ruffled her hair, "I think it translates to English as 'Changing Demons'. they're Japanese shape-shifters. Cats, foxes, monkeys, rats, they've all got hengeyokai versions, along with a couple others I forget. Though, each of them was a single animal with a single human form, you're pushing for everything under the Sun, aren't you?"

Megan could not resist smiling back at that, "why not? The more shapes I can take, the better I become, ne?"

"Just promise me you won't try any new shapes over vacation. You're good, yes, but you're still learning, and I don't want to have to tell your parents why they woke up one morning to find their daughter has eagle feathers and a cat's tail."

Megan grimaced, picturing the oft-repeated threat in her mind, "I promise, sensei. But I'm still going to practice."

"Well, duh," Lotte muttered, "you need the practice. Just don't try any new forms."

------------------------------

_Home for vacation,_ Megan thought as the teleport cleared, pack over her shoulder, one hand in Shamal's for the transit, _now do I play it up, or play it down?_

"A moment, please," Shamal said, once the spell energies had dissipated, and Megan finally looked up from the buildings of her hometown to realize they were standing at the foot of her favorite statue.

Considering it now, knowing the story behind both the woman herself, and the ships depicted on the base, the look of serene determination on the woman's face was quite a bit more believable. It was also surprisingly familiar, _huh, she looks less like the pictures of Shimazu Sara than like Hayate-sensei. Sling Reinforce across her back, change out the dress for Hayate-sensei's coat and suit... almost, almost._ Still, Megan knew who was represented there, and waited patiently for her teacher. It also gave her a chance to look around magically, and she was unsurprised to find minor wards built around the statue, simple things to ward away negative emotions and hostile activities.

Once the proprieties had been observed, Shamal walked with her through the town, ignoring the damp chill in the air and the gray skies as easily as any native, the two of them discussing nothing more challenging than the holiday meals both were contemplating. Megan stopped a few blocks from home, however, and mentioned, "I should warn you, Shamal-baa-san, my whole family's likely to be there. We're a bunch of homebodies, and... well... I think my father went away for college, but I'm not sure."

"You think they'll be happy to see you?"

"Oh, no doubt," Megan said, resuming walking, though slowly, "it's just... they're probably going to be a little energetic about it. They haven't seen me in months, after all, and our house isn't big enough for half the family, let alone all of it."

To her surprise, the only person home when she got there was her mother, who came running out the door and swept her up in a hug before she and Shamal were halfway up the walk. "Oh, Megan! You're finally home! We've been so worried about you!"

"Mom, please," Megan gasped, trying to both escape and return the hug, "need to breathe, here."

"Oh shush," her mother replied, "I'm not that bad." Megan did find the grip relaxing after a moment, however, and her mother extended a hand to Shamal, "thank you for bringing her home, Miss Shamal, and for putting up with her for the past few months."

"Think nothing of it, ma'am," Shamal replied, "Megan was a delight."

"Especially compared to Laura and Yu-chan," Megan muttered.

"Don't talk about your classmates that way, Megan," her mother chided her, "it's not fair to them. Would you care to join us for dinner, Miss Shamal? The entire family will be there."

Shamal shook her head, "I'm afraid I can't, Misses Sommersby, I need to help prepare my own family's Christmas dinner. It will be Christmas Day in Kyoto sooner than it will be here. I'll be on my way. Remember the rules, Megan, especially the last one."

As Shamal strolled up the path again, Megan's mother asked, "What's the last rule?"

"Have fun," Megan replied with a grin. Then she looked around, and noted that her mother was quite obviously planning on going somewhere. "Where's everyone else?"

"Oh, they're up at the Church," her mother told her with a happy smile, "Your uncle Thomas was kind enough to let us use it for the get-together, since we'll all be there for Christmas Mass later anyhow."

Megan felt her blood run cold at that. 'Everyone' and 'the Church' used in the same sentence meant more than just her family, it meant almost everyone _in town_. "Um, why do I get the feeling I'm not going to enjoy this?" _Maybe if I go wolf I can catch up to Shamal-baa-san,_ she thought, seriously contemplating it.

Already heading down the path, Megan's free hand held in an iron grip, her mother said, "Don't be silly, Megan. This is family, and we've all been terribly worried about you, especially since that attack in Tokyo."

"It was Kyoto, Mom, not Tokyo," Megan corrected, resigning herself to the impending 'welcome home'. Everyone in town, she thought to herself, _God above, we should be done with 'hello' just in time to all say 'goodbye'._ Despite that thought, she could feel an odd sense of completeness as she walked beside her mother to the church, a comforting sense that things were back to 'normal' for a while. Which was a surprising thing for her to feel, since she had struggled for so long not to be normal. _Play it down,_ she decided, _don't want to scare anyone just yet._

------------------------------

Author's Note: I didn't mean to post this so bloody quick, but I had it half-written (literally!) when I started AB 19 (Winter of Our Discontent) and AB:SS 2 (Holiday Surprises). Holiday Surprises side-tracked me completely, as all three scenes popped into my head over the course of an afternoon.

------------------------------

CrimsonDX: Glad you enjoyed it. Mariachi is proving to have some interesting twists, though mostly in my notes so far:). I've said all I'm going to on Allina & 'Jana for the moment. As far as forgetting Juliet… let's just say I feel guilty enough as it is, and leave it at that.

Kell Shock: Take comfort that you were not the only reader (or author) to forget Juliet. Unfortunately, I was overly ambitious when I started AB (and could not really envision a 'school' with four students), but that's why I started AB:SS – to flesh out the other students. The African shaman's also a lot of fun to write because, aggravating and pushy and crotchety as he is, he's still an ally of sorts. Not sure if I'll do anything for the other kids' holidays, as I've no ideas for them at the moment, and I hate trying to force a plot. There'll be other Side Stories, though.

TheWhiteMonk: Yep, more music and code. I've got my own opinions on racism, but then I'm a cynical slacker, so… Juliet was supposed to be a bit more of a rage-fest (she's one of the two Angry Students, the other being Allison), but I just couldn't square her going berserk on the shaman (much as he may have deserved it) with the self-control Hayate's been teaching the kids, and with the close watch Hayate was keeping over their vacation.


	4. 04 Barriers & Brawls

**Barriers and Brawls**

An Academy Blues Side Story

By Daishi Prime

------------------------------

Autor's Note: this begins later than the prior Side Stories, during the week after Kyoto.

------------------------------

"Allison, Noah, can the two of you please remain behind?"

Noah froze at Lotte's request, then shrugged and nodded, "I'll catch up," he told Ichigo. The other boy nodded, and continued following the rest of the class out of the workroom. Turning around, Noah walked back to Lotte, curious about what she wanted. She knew about his project with Ichigo, of course, but if this was about that, she would have asked him to remain as well. While Allison stalked over, arms crossed on her chest and face cast in a frown, he took a bet, _Either she has a project for Allison and I, or she wants us to help with the next class. Two to one it's option number one._

"Allison," Lotte began, once they were alone, "I know you're working hard, but your shields simply aren't firming up the way they're supposed to."

_And the winner is…_ Noah thought, being very careful not to say anything. He had the best shields in the class, though not by as wide a margin as he had when they first learned the spells.

"I'm getting better," Allison protested, "I haven't had one collapse in weeks."

"Collapse on its own, no," Lotte allowed, "but you're having trouble holding them up under pressure and distraction, which is a serious weakness. I think it's partly a mental matter – you are, to put it bluntly, an aggressor. You focus on attack, rather than defense, which causes your defenses to suffer. It's a problem, and it's going to affect your grades if you can't improve before finals."

Allison's frown deepened, "Can we schedule some time after classes to work it, sensei?"

Lotte grinned, and half-fell sideways, catching herself with an arm over Noah's shoulders, "I'm glad you asked, Allison! And thank you, Noah-kun," she paused to pinch his cheek, "for volunteering to help her! Commendable sense of class spirit!"

"Um, I haven't volunteered for anything," Noah countered weakly. While he had no problem helping, getting dragooned into it, especially with someone as justifiably frightening as Allison, was an unpleasant idea. She might blame him for it, after all.

"Yes you have," Lotte replied, "you stuck around after all."

"Because you told me to, sensei."

"But class was over, so you didn't actually have to do what I said anymore." Noah was very tempted to remember that argument for later use, but thought better of it. Lotte was just as likely to hue to the opposite opinion as to the one she had just stated.

"Oi, I meant you and me, sensei," Allison replied, "no offense to the bean-pole, but you're the practical magic instructor."

"Hey! I'm not that thin, Ally!" Arguing with Allison was generally a bad idea, but Noah saw no reason to let her get away with insulting him like that.

Her brilliant green eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, finally focusing on him, instead of on Lotte. "My name is Allison," she ground out, "and you'd best remember that if you ever want to have children."

"Whatever, Wilderness Girl," Noah shot back. "You want me to use your name, use mine."

"Children," Lotte cut them off, "play nice. Allison, I want Noah to work with you because he has an affinity for force effects. His shields are the most effective of anyone in class, and I think he can help you figure out what you're doing wrong. I have several ideas, but testing them will take weeks. Instead, Noah-kun should be able to figure it out in a couple sessions, in time to help you firm up your shields for finals. At the same time, he has the best shields in class, which means of all your classmates, he can most safely help you practice the assault techniques Signum just started teaching you."

"Wait...," Noah turned that over faster than Allison, "you want me to show her how to shield herself, and then to be her punching bag?"

"Essentially, yes," Lotte nodded with a grin, then her face turned serious. "Look, I know you two aren't best buds or anything, and you've both got your pride riled up, but there are very good reasons for this. Allison, you need to get your shields up to a usable level, and normal class work combined with your after-school efforts isn't helping. Noah, you're coasting through the shielding lessons, don't try to claim you're not. The classes are not pushing your abilities as far as they could go as fast as they could go. I don't have the time in class to help either of you as much as you need me to. I _could _take an hour after class to help Allison, and another to help Noah, or I could have the two of you work together for those two hours. You'll get as much done as if I took each of you for separate hours, and you'll be able to fit the sessions in around your other projects more easily. I'll leave it up to you, though... an hour with me every week immediately after class, or two hours a week as you schedule them, with each other. I'll stop in once in a while, but it'll be a self-study program all the way."

Noah shrugged, trying and failing to slip out from under Lotte's arm, "I'm up for either one, Lotte-sensei. Allison?"

She glared at him for a moment longer, obviously having hoped he would make the decision for her. When he just shrugged, she snorted, "fine, bean-pole it is. At least I can hit him when he's annoying."

"I'm hurt!" Lotte finally let Noah go, straightening up and putting her hands on her hips, "I've never said you couldn't try and hit me."

------------------------------

"So, how you wanna go about doing this, bean-pole?"

Noah rolled his eyes, but let the moniker pass. Allison had refused to call him anything else since Lotte gave them this project the day before. Now, finding her in one of the smaller workrooms leaning against a wall, hands shoved into her pockets, he just replied, "Well, Wilderness Girl, since the primary goal's working on getting your shields up to snuff, let's see one."

"You've seen 'em in class plenty of times, haven't you?"

Another Heaven-ward roll of the eyes preceded, "but I've always been focusing on my shields, or those of whoever I'm grouped with. You and I aren't usually grouped together, Ally." Expectation allowed him to catch her slap before it hit his shoulder, deflecting it high, but he back-pedaled rapidly, in case she decided to try a follow up.

Allison glared, but staid leaning against the wall. "Fine, here you go."

She brought up a shield, and Noah watched closely, trying to get a feel for how she did it. The shield, a simple planar barrier, spun up, stretching out to a little taller and wider than Allison, an indistinct haze of reddish-yellow. It firmed up, just as he expected, then as soon as she 'finished' and reduced the power flow to just enough to maintain it, the whole thing became hazier, its distortion more pronounced. When he reached forward to run a finger along it experimentally, the whole thing shivered once and collapsed, causing Allison to wince. "Yeah, see, thing is, you can't touch it, or it falls apart on me."

Noah nodded absently, trying to determine what he had seen. "Do it again, but this time, don't thin out the power flow. Keep feeding it."

"Yeah, funny thing about that... it's sorta like a baby. You keep feeding it, it'll keep growing."

He shot her a glare, "I know that, Allison. Don't let it grow any more than you have to, just keep the flow at the same level." Allison grumbled something under her breath, but did as he asked, generating a new shield. This time, she kept feeding power, and while he did not sense her making any effort to contain its size, he did not wait as long to test it. Before it was larger than a police riot-shield, he reached out, and started running his fingers over its surface.

He had found, in experiments with Ichigo and Marcel, as well as in Lotte's class, that he not only had a facility with creating shields, but he could get a... tingle... off of them, a sense of what was going into them. He had to have physical contact with the shield, and Lotte had shown it was simply enough to block him, but Allison had no way to know anything about that. He could sense what was going into her shield, how strong it was, where it was strongest or weakest, how much energy was going into the shield itself and how much was just being wasted.

In Allison's case, he was unsurprised to find that most of it was being wasted. When she could no longer sustain the push, Allison settled back to normal, tying off the flow, and her shield immediately destabilized, becoming nothing more than a pretty distraction. "Well, there's your problem," he muttered, pushing a spread hand through the shield. "You're not stabilizing it. It's like... what you're making isn't so much a shield, as a flexible pipe. So long as you keep up the flow of power, it acts like a shield, like a pipe'll act like a pillar when the water-pressure's high enough. But stop the flow of power, and there's nothing holding the shield together."

"Bullshit," Allison countered, causing him to blink at her in surprise. Not that he'd never heard the word, but... no one around here used that language. "I build that thing exactly the same way you do. Imagine a wall, pour the power into it, firm it up, tie it off."

Noah nodded along with the last couple, "yep, that's how we're supposed to do it, but that's not what's working for you. I think, Allison, that you've got a problem where I've got an advantage – do me a favor, not a shield, this time, but..."

It took him another twenty minutes to explain what he and Ichigo were working on, the move-able platform of magic, even if they were only up to the 'platform' stage. It was similar to a shield, but subtly different, requiring certain stability and structure beyond most shields. One attempt by Allison proved exactly what he was thinking.

"You can't do force effects," he told her. "I'd get Lotte-sensei to confirm it, but yeah, you can't do force effects."

"Oh, come on, shields are more than just force effects," Allison countered, "how the hell is plain old force going to stop the communications spell, like your shields can? Or a teleport, or anything that doesn't have a physical component?"

Noah just shrugged, "sure, shields do a lot more than force effects, but they're all built on that basis. The basic physical shield is like a house's foundation. You can build a house without one, but it'll fall down in any sort of breeze. You aren't building that foundation, so... again, like the pipe... without the flow of magic keeping it together, it collapses."

"So how the hell'd Lotte miss that?"

"She didn't," Noah said, then sighed as she growled at him. "Look, she's trying to do things, 'kay? Teach you how to shield..."

"And you how to do it without relying on your specialty," Allison cut him off, eyes narrowing. "Risky of her, leaving us to try this on our own, isn't it?"

"Maybe," he agreed, "then again, maybe not. We've been here for months, we've seen the worst Laura can come up with, we've all had things blow up in our faces. Maybe she thinks we know enough, and are cautious enough, to do a little experimenting on our own."

"Such as how the Hell am I supposed to build a shield without a foundation?"

Noah nodded, agreeing with her semi-dejected tone. "I'm not seeing a way around that. Shields have to be strong enough to stand up to whatever hits them."

The two of them stood there for a few minutes, debating the idea, trying to think of a way round it. Noah was, as he had said, stumped. Everything he knew about shields said they had to be solid and stable, built on the sort of force effect that he excelled at. So he focused most of his thoughts on how to show Allison how to accomplish what was, for him, an instinctive thing. So the two of them pondered in silence for a while, trading off pacing and waiting.

Noah was startled out of his own circling thoughts when Allison suddenly swore again, and kicked the wall hard enough to wince. "Something wrong?"

"So damn stupid," she muttered, then glared at him, "What're we trying to do?"

"Teach you how to build a solid shield."

"Wrong! We're trying to teach me how to protect myself from magic. Who the Hell says the shield has to be 'solid'?" He could only blink at her, confused, until she threw up her hands, and resumed pacing, "look, you like comparisons and all, so here's one. What's the biggest advantage of the enemy you can only see in the mirror?"

That was a confusing question, so he actually had to think about it for a minute. _Oh, right philosophical question,_ he realized, and told her, "He's you, so he knows everything you're capable of."

"Tche, idiot," she shot back, "If you can only see him in the mirror, you can only _hit_ the mirror. Damn American military – 'if we can see it, we can kill it.' They don't like to admit it, but the other way's true as well – if they can't see it, they can't kill it. The trick isn't me figuring out how to do what everyone else does, it's figuring out how to use my advantages to get the same result – protection."

"You're thinking of camouflage," Noah realized in dawning comprehension, "stealth, misdirection, instead of opposition."

"More the first two," she countered.

He sighed a little, "Well, I'm not sure how much I'll be able to help with that. Force effects are my thing."

"Oh, you'll help, bean-pole," she said, giving him an almost feral smile. She held up one hand, glowing with energy, "I'm kind aggravated right now and want to burn off some energy. It's time to see just how strong those shields of yours are."

Noah looked at her fist, then at her face, then back and forth a few more times. _Oh, God, this is so going to suck,_ he thought, as the raw power around her hand became evident.

------------------------------

It took the two of them seven more sessions, spread over three weeks, to make real progress. For Allison, the difficulty was learning how to take the field she could create, and shift it from stopping dangerous levels of energy to bending normal levels. For Noah, the problem was in not using the force effects he was used to, trying to emulate how Allison was making her shields, then trying to duplicate her efforts at a cloak.

They were taking a break from it two weeks in, sitting in the library trying to find out who had already come up with this idea and how they had gone about it, when he finally could not keep from asking a question which had bothered him almost since he had met Allison. It had also bothered several other students, but no one had quite had the gall to ask. Over the weeks of enforced cooperation, he had come to realize that, for all her prickly personality and evident temper, Allison was surprisingly easy to get along with, if you phrased things the right way.

"You know," he said, leaning back in his chair to look across the table at her, "I've been wondering about something for a while now."

"You wonder about a lot of things," Allison replied, not even glancing up from her screen.

"Allison Caeghlin," he said slowly, pronouncing the name very precisely. "I looked it up, at least where it's from." She sighed heavily, and looked up, but waited for him to continue. "Ireland. Thing is, other than the red hair, you don't look Irish."

"I'm not," Allison told him, "as any idiot can tell from my accent and home address."

"Someplace in the western U.S., right?"

"Northern Arizona." She sighed again, crossing her arms, "you're going to keep asking, aren't you?"

Noah shrugged, giving her his most winning smile, "Hey, I'm curious."

"Also stubborn, pushy, intrusive, noisy..."

"Oi, oi, alright already," he said, cutting off the litany before she could really get started. "In all seriousness, if you don't want to tell me, say so."

"I don't. But you're going to wonder, and so is everyone else." She slid down in the seat, resting her head on the chair-back to stare at the ceiling. When she started speaking again, her voice had a different accent, running words together oddly, "Daddy's Irish, born in Dublin-town. Fer some stupid reason, his parents moved to the bloody U. S. of A. when 'e wus a lad. Daddy's a carpenter, does pretty-work an' the loik. Came out to the Res to do some work on some public buildings, real good wi' his 'ands. Honest to, scored a lotta points wi' the people, not bein' pushy er tryin' ta cheat us. Tha' go' him more work. Momma took a shine ta 'im, an' her family approved, so here I am."

Puzzling out what she said was difficult. Her changed accent had not been the worst he ever heard, but what it did to Japanese was indescribable. He managed to get the gist of it, but still had to ask, "Who are 'the people' you mentioned? Your mother's?" A glance at her skin told him, "You're an American Indian, right?"

Her immediate response was to kick him under the table, none too gently in the shin, causing him to yelp in pain and jump half out of his chair. "The proper term," she growled, accent shifting back to normal, "is Native American, though even that's too damn broad. My mother's Navajo. Except for the hair, I look like her. Name's from my father's side, too, his grandmother's name."

"What about your accent? I've never heard someone shift accents like that."

She shrugged, "Daddy insists on spending a month a year in Ireland, 'renewing his roots'. Any time I start thinking in Irish, I pick up the accent again. 'At's where I learned ta fight, scrappin' in Dublin. Daddy's showin' me some more." She paused, then gave him a questioning look. "Fair's fair, bean-pole, where're you from?"

"Nowhere so colorful," Noah shrugged. "Manila brat, born and raised. Technically, I guess I'm Spanish, since that's where most of my ancestry traces, but my family's been in the Philippines so long no one remembers anything else. And trust me, we remember back centuries. I'm afraid I'm a bit of a disappointment, actually. My father's side have been fighters since forever. Fought the Japanese in the War, fought the Americans before that, the Spanish before that, each other before that. Heck, my grandfather insists it was one of our ancestors who offed Magellan." He shrugged again, "me, closest I want to get to fighting is soccer. Not that there's much difference, if it's being played right, but still. I would like to get some traveling done, but my family's a bunch of stay-at-homes. They think anything outside Manila's a life-altering epic journey, or something."

"Only reason I've been anywhere's Daddy," Allison said, leaning forward to resume their research. "I'd prefer to stay on the Res, fewer reminders of the bloody English."

"English? I thought Native Americans had it in for all whites."

"Be kinda silly for me," Allison muttered back, "since I'm never going to hate Daddy. Besides, the Irish got it just as bad as the Navajo, and for longer. We've only had to put up with the murdering English and their American successors for a couple centuries, the Irish have had 'em for a thousand years and more. Admittedly, the Irish did better fighting them off, but they had experience and weapons advantages, and still lost. Besides, it's not so much hate as... dislike. The English know nothing of living, only of self-advancement and immediate impulses. Americans are even worse. What about you? Phillippines have been conquered a time or two."

"Sure," Noah agreed, "but we're free now. What, I'm supposed to hate America for freeing us from the Spanish? Or from the Japanese? Oh, I agree, Americans are too worried about the now, but that's true of everyone, Allison. No reason to go around condemning them, especially not for things done before any of us were alive."

That earned him a shocked glare. "Before we were alive?! My ancestors were marched across hundreds of miles of wilderness, _against_ the laws of the bloody Americans, in mid-winter, without shelter or food, and you think that's no reason to condemn America?!"

He cocked an eyebrow at her, surprised by her vehemence. From the look on her face and tone of her voice, you would think she was speaking from personal experience. Which was, in a way, just plain insulting. "My great grandparents were enslaved by the Japanese. Two of them died on the Bataan Death March. My father's father was a kid during the war, and still fought, was still taken as a prisoner of war. You don't want to know what happened to one of my grandmothers." To her credit, Allison blanched at that. "Now, which of your grandparents or great-grandparents suffered the same? By your lights, I should hold Noriko, Ichigo and Toushiro responsible for what a bunch of militaristic assholes did in the name of their country sixty, seventy years ago."

He shrugged and bent over his own PDA, then continued, "it's not that I'm unaware of history, Allison, but it didn't happen to me, it happened to my ancestors. _They_ have a right to be angry, and my grandparents still won't speak to anyone of Japanese ancestry, other than to curse them. Me, the worst thing that's ever happened to me was getting my butt handed to me on the soccer pitch. I'll get mad if someone tries to deny Bataan and the like happened, or to forget it, but getting mad because it happened? That's like getting mad at God for last year's typhoon. Past is past and can't be changed, only learned from."

Allison did not respond, but shoved herself out of her chair and stormed off, leaving him to wonder if she would ever talk to him again.

It was maybe two minutes later that Lotte plunked down in the chair next to him. "That got a little personal."

Noah looked up, then shrugged. "It's an outlook thing. I don't like people taking credit for things they didn't do, and I don't like people claiming to have suffered things they didn't." He grinned a little sheepishly, "last time I got belted was for 'putting on airs' because of my great grandparents fighting in the War, back when I was a little kid. If she'd gone on about how Navajo and Irish are treated today, sure, I'd've listened and given her the benefit of the doubt, since I haven't the foggiest. But getting worked up over what happened to her ancestors? Please. I'm not 'Jana, but I know enough of history to realize that everyone's been 'oppressed' at some point. My father pointed it out to me a couple years ago, when my soccer team went zip and fifteen, and it's made more sense ever since. No matter what, someone's always going to get the short end of the stick. You can whine about it, or you can work around it. The first'll get you sympathy from whoever didn't get the short end, the second'll get you a chance to reverse the situation. I know which one I'd prefer, and since she's here, she should too."

"Oh, I wasn't complaining," Lotte assured him, "just commenting. I'm impressed with you, though. Kids your age don't usually think about such things. Usually it's girls and games you kids worry about."

Noah blinked at her, and opened his mouth to object that of course people his age thought about history and the like. After all, he could point to several examples right there in the room. Then he remembered just what everyone at this school was like, and what his old friends back in Manila were like. Much as he liked them, he had to admit that most of his pals were more likely to argue soccer and girls than history. "Yeah, okay, can see that," he conceded, "but look at who you've got for other students. We're not really normal, Lotte-sensei, even without the magic."

"True, true, but you kids keep surprising us. I'm curious, though, isn't this little fight going to affect your project? I know you've made progress, but you're not done yet."

Noah could only shrug again. "Dunno. We'll find out after she calms down. Ally's got a temper, but I don't think she actually holds onto grudges too long. If she does, well, I'll figure something out. We've figured out enough between us that we can probably go the rest of the way working separately with you, or with someone else."

"Nope," Lotte answered, grinning at him, "you made your bed, Noah-kun. Now you get to sleep in it. You're working with her until this is finished, so here's hoping you figure out how to get on her good side again."

Noah thought about that for a second, then grinned back, "Well, at least she hasn't managed to get through my shields, yet."

------------------------------

Allison avoided him all the next day, and the day after, which was somewhat disheartening, as he had intended to try and talk to her. Not to apologize, that would have required admitting he was wrong, which he did not for a moment believe. But he did want to see if they could at least still work together. Unfortunately for that hope, she completely ignored his presence, even when she should not have, such as during Lotte's class when the two of them were put in a group. She simply addressed Marcel and Natalia, never once acknowledging his existence.

The evening of the second day was supposed to be one of their practice sessions, and Noah arrived early, more than a little worried about whether or not Allison would show, and what would happen if she did. When she did arrive, she glared at him for a few moments before closing and locking the door, as usual.

"You have your view," she told him, without turning around, "I have mine. What was done to my people, both my peoples, has never been made good, and probably never will be. That is the reason I dislike the English and their descendants. But like I said, you have your view, I have mine. You ever bring it up again, and I will pound you into the floor. Understood?"

Noah was tempted to argue the point – not discussing something meant not learning from the debate, after all, but wisely decided to keep his mouth shut. "Understood," he agreed after a moment. "I found a reference to a 'full spectrum cloak', and think I may have figured out how to do it without a device, on the physical level at least. Do you want to give it a shot?"

------------------------------

Christmas vacation came far too early for Noah. The hectic rush to pass all his finals, pack for two weeks in a _much_ warmer climate, and make sure he did not forget something, made the last weeks before vacation a blur of twenty-seven hour days.

He and Allison managed to achieve a respectable form of stealth, though she was significantly better at it than he was, well enough that Lotte declared herself satisfied with their progress. Allison could manage to completely fade from vision, though not from hearing, and maintain the effect while moving. Noah could manage to make himself harder to see, but not if he was moving. It turned out his affinity for force effects made it extremely difficult for him not to include them in his defenses, and the Cloak of Shades, as Allison named it, required a completely free-form structure he had trouble managing.

Vacation itself was a wonderfully relaxing time, in comparison to the last couple weeks of school. No responsibilities, other than chores around the house, no tests or studying or projects, just two weeks of hanging out with his siblings and old friends. A couple pick-up soccer games, a group ride down to the harbor trying to out-pace and out-trick each other, it was almost enough to convince him nothing had changed. Except too many times what should have been painful falls, for himself and his friends, were saved by his magic.

His parents asked for a demonstration, uncertain themselves what he had been learning. That proved simple enough, and they were justifiably impressed. The stories of what had gone on – those he was willing to share, at least – impressed them even more, especially Yussef's, Noriko's and Laura's devices. They professed to happiness, and he mostly believed them, but there was a hesitancy to his mother's approval that stuck in his head. It took him the better part of a week to figure it out, and even then it was not until after Mass.

He was waiting in front of the church with a couple friends, when Father Intengan approached him, "Noah, may I speak with you?"

Not being one to object, Noah agreed, and the two of the walked around the side of the church, towards the small plot of ground between it and the cemetery set aside for a garden and walking area. "Your mother came to me this morning, before Mass, with some questions," the Father began, "and I wanted to talk to you before I answered her, seeing as you are at the heart of them."

"She's worried about the magic," Noah commented, understanding his mother's attitude the past days, then shrugged, "Have to admit, I have been on occasion as well."

"So you are certain it _is _magic?"

"What else can you call it? We accomplish effects not explainable by normal physics. We alter the world simply by exerting our will upon it."

"There are some who argue that great figures in history did the same." Intengan told him, settling onto a bench. "That our will is the only way we can affect the world beyond base animal activities."

Noah shook his head, "not like this, Father. Here, I'll show you." He had to enter into a light trance to manage it, but he managed to build a shield around the two of them and the bench, just a light tinge of blue between them and everything else. "This shield lets light through, air, but nothing more energetic. Sound, for instance."

Intengan looked quite calm, for someone unexpectedly finding himself in a shield for the first time. "This is quite impressive, Noah. I take it this means we'll have privacy?"

"Yeah, for a bit. I can't keep one this large and complicated up for more than a few minutes, but while it lasts it's just about impenetrable. You could shoot it with a Colt .45 and it wouldn't notice."

"You seem quite comfortable with this, for someone who professes doubts."

Noah thought that over, trying to figure out how to explain. "It's like... I've been working with this for months now, and in most respects, it's just like what one of my teachers said. Magic is a tool, no different from a shovel, or a hammer, or a car engine, or electricity. It's more powerful and more flexible than most, but it is still just a tool. The thing that's bothering me is... I'm not sure if this is all it will ever be. They've told us magic can be incredibly dangerous. Hayate-sensei can supposedly destroy a city in a matter of minutes. And I know that the Bible says 'suffer not the witch to live', or the something like it. So, yeah, I'm comfortable with what I'm doing now, but still worried that maybe I shouldn't be."

"Well, the Bible does say that, almost word for word. But, it does not really define a witch in so many words. Also, Jesus made it clear that we were each to use our God-given gifts to the best of our ability. The question then becomes, from where do you gain the ability to do this," he gestured at the shield.

"I can show you my linker core," Noah offered. "That's the source of a mage's power."

"Hmm, not what I meant. The question is, does this power you wield come from God, is it part of you as a human being, or something external to it. If it is a natural part of you, then all well and good, it is your responsibility to explore this. If it is not, _then _we have a problem."

"Then I think we have a problem, just not quite the worse one. I'm not sure where this comes form. According to my teachers, almost every living thing has a linker core, has the potential, they just don't access it. Yet, if we all have this potential, why can't I find proof that people have been using it in the past? What about the argument that how we use it determines if it's good or bad? I mean, even if the source is evil, if I use it for good..."

"Then you still use something evil. Oh, there is some gray area, times where this fallen world forces us to choose between lesser and greater evils. But there are lines no true follower of God can ever cross. I am not familiar enough with what you do, how you do it, to be able to tell you where this comes from. I am afraid, in the end, you are going to have to tell me."

Noah nodded slowly at that, understanding exactly what he meant. "All I can say so far, Father, is that nothing we've done is obviously evil. Almost the opposite, everything Hayate-sensei's been emphasizing is safety, control, responsibility. She's told us some stories about things she's seen, what can be done with magic, but always with the warning of what went wrong, where the limit was, and how to avoid it ourselves."

"She sounds like a good woman, a good teacher," Intengan agreed, "and I would emphasize those points myself. Safeguard those around you, control yourself, and take responsibility for your actions. To that, I would add, guard yourself against evil. Until you are sure where this comes from, what it's maker's intent is, guard yourself and those around you. Though, I think I can reassure your Mother as to your spiritual safety."

"We can never be sure," Noah asked, "can we?"

"That, young Noah, is the price of being human, and being righteous. You must always and ever doubt yourself and those around you. When you stop doing that, you cease listening to God, and stray into pride."

On one level, it was not a comforting conversation. Noah had, in the half-formed way of un-expressed doubts, hoped that Father Intengan would be able to reassure him. At the same time, it _was_ a reassuring conversation – knowing that he had been doing the right thing, that he was not facing immediate condemnation, was oddly comforting.

------------------------------

Noah had expected Lotte's passing them on the cloak would end his and Allison's sessions. But the very first day, before he had even finished unpacking, she was knocking on the open door of his room. Of all the girls, she was the only one who seemed to have no trouble going into the Boys' Wing without warning, though she was death-incarnate to any of the boys who thought to take the same liberty.

"You free Tuesday afternoon," she asked, "I think I may have figured out a way to actually make a shield."

"Ah," standing over a suitcase with half his clothes spread out over the bed was not how he preferred to talk to anyone, let alone a girl, so it took a second for him to reason out a response. "Um, sounds good."

"Tuesday. Don't make me track you down, bean-pole, I got in too much hunting over vacation as it was." Then she was gone, just as abruptly as she had appeared, leaving Noah blinking in surprise.

Nevertheless, that Tuesday the two of them resumed working on her stealth spells, and his shields. While they did not work as hard on that as they had before vacation, one afternoon a week instead of two, it nonetheless became a solid part of their routine, and they began making surprising progress. He made progress on the stealth effects, though he still fell short of what Allison managed before vacation, and to his surprise, she managed to create a credible shield, finally.

Allison's idea on creating an actual shield was energy-intensive, complicated, and a total bear to control, but actually worked in an odd-ball manner. She essentially borrowed Noriko's 'petals', but instead of making them out of shields, made them out of pure energy, setting them to orbit about herself at high speed in a complicated interlacing pattern. Any incoming attack would not so much be stopped as intercepted. The only problem with it was, she had to be in complete trance to control the individual pieces, and the amount of energy involved pushed her right to her limit. Noah could manage a little better, mostly using less energy by using actual miniature-shields, but even he found it draining.

They were working on it again a month later, in one of the mid-sized workrooms, when Shamal's panicked sending reached them, shocking Allison out of trance hard enough she almost fell over, despite being seated. "What the Hell?"

"You heard her," Noah countered, shoving up from where he had been seated, "we've gotta get out of here, fast."

"We're not going to be able to," Allison countered, causing him to pause. She stood up herself, more slowly than he had, dusting her pants off. While almost all the girls had opted to have some of the nominal boys' uniforms on hand, Allison had never once worn the skirt of the girls' uniform, and now she demonstrated yet another reason why, as she fished things out of the pockets the pants had, but the skirts lacked. "Paratroopers," she continued, checking over what looked like a can in her left hand, "landing on the entire campus. We go up now, we're hostages, plain and simple."

"We can't just sit here!"

"The Hell we can't," she shot back, "we're secure, there's only one way in or out, and they're gonna have a bear of a time digging us out, if they even realize we're in here."

"But what about everyone else?!"

Allison shrugged, "they're going to have to fend for themselves. We're two people, Noah, who just got landed on by an army. Literally. Remember what you said about, 'what happened to your great grandparents'? Well, go a little further back, and you'll see something like this happening to _my_ ancestors. Only more often, and without as much chance of fighting back."

Noah frowned at her, a combination of fear and excitement giving him a case of the shakes. "Which is exactly what you're saying we shouldn't do."

"You and me, no," Allison shrugged, "but do you really think these mental midgets are going to slow Laura or Noriko down? This'll be over in under an hour, and we'll go up, take stock, and see what's what then. We go out there now..."

A click at the door, and the feeling of the workroom's shields disengaging cut her off, and both of them spun to face the door. It opened fast and hard, pulled by someone outside to reveal nothing, then a head ducked around from the side opposite the hinges, before vanishing again.

Noah had no idea how they got the workroom door open, and immediately realized it did not matter, not yet. As the head reappeared, followed by a body wrapped head-to-toe in dark colors and carrying a shotgun, he backpedaled, bringing up his shields almost by instinct, mind flying off in too many directions to form a coherent plan. The first man was followed by three more, one lacking the arsenal of the first three. 

All three armed men covered Noah, which was a more than intimidating experience, while the fourth, standing just inside the door, spread his hands wide. "Son, relax, we're here to get you out. We don't want to hurt you, but it's not safe for you to stay here."

_Son? What about..._ he glanced around, and realized that Allison was gone, vanished into her cloak, apparently as soon as the door opened. The pause to talk, and the realization that they had no clue he was not alone, gave him enough time and confidence to get his thoughts under control again. The training in self control, and the practice from Yussef's class, moved the fear to the back of his mind, and let him think. _Door's still open, someone's holding it,_ he decided. _I bet Mouth over there,_ who was still trying to talk him into dropping his shields, _is the one who popped the lock, so we take him down in here with us..._

The problem he ran into almost immediately was that Allison, for all the time he had spent working with her, was not one of the guys. With one of the guys, he would have a fair idea where they were, what they were going to do, and so forth. With Allison, all he knew was that, when she saw an opening, she would take it. He was fairly certain she would not abandon him, which meant... _the one in the door. She'll take him down, close the door against anyone outside, and then we only have these four to deal with. Which leaves me distracting these four. _"Hey, I don't know who you think you are," he told the intruders, dropping into a poor imitation of a martial arts stance, "but you picked the wrong school to jump."

They proved to be rather unwilling to be distracted. The two soldiers on the wings dropped their shotguns on the slings, and pulled out small pistol-like weapons Noah was unfamiliar with. They started walking wide, but the one in the middle, now labeled 'Shotty' in Noah's mind, just pulled the trigger. The blast was deafening, even twenty meters away, and Noah felt the shot hit his shield, felt it hard enough to stagger back a step.

He could not maintain his full shield and counter, and he had to do something. So he improvised, dropping his main shield in favor of three smaller ones, at greater distances. Two he managed to physically hang on the end of the pistols aimed at him, a third on the end of the shotgun. They were weak, but would probably deaden any shots fired at him to the point where they were ineffective. Once those were in place, a bare second as Lefty and Righty moved further in their respective directions, he turned his attention to offense.

The two pistols came up, and he saw both triggers pull. The results were a surprise, as his mini-shields were hit by twin darts, and promptly dissolved under a hail of electrical power, channeling part of it right back into the pistols. The two weapons smoked, and Lefty and Righty dropped them with surprised exclamations in a language Noah did not know. But they gave him enough time to form a new shield, a simple cylinder ten or fifteen meters long... snaking right between each attackers legs. A mental twist pulled the twists together, and the four men hit the ground in untidy heaps.

At the same time, he saw a flicker of movement in the door, heard a shout, and then the door slammed closed, and he felt the locks resetting. Allison faded into view, swinging a narrow length of metal in her right hand, a smirk on her face as she leaned against the closed door. "Gotta love mace," she told Noah in a surprisingly cheery voice, "easy to use, easy to hid, kicks like a mule. Idiot outside had goggles, but nothing over his face but cloth. Hit him right in the upper lip sent the spray straight up his nose. There're two more out there, and another team down the hall, but I don't think they'll be getting in here."

"You shouldn't have done that, Miss," Mouth muttered, struggling to his feet. The other soldiers were quicker, all of them now armed with shotguns. Mouth continued, "that man was here to help you, same as..."

"What, like the bloody English helped my ancestors with blankets for the winter? Or maybe like they helped with Ireland's potato famine? Please," Her smirk twisted into a dangerous grin, "You're here to rock and roll, and I'm more than happy to oblige you."

"Got your back, Ally," Noah told her, dropping his prior shields for two more. One he put between himself and the room as he backed into a wall, the other he put in front of her, ready to shift to any direction she was not moving.

The rod in her hand started swinging back and forth, taking on a white glow. "Who's first?"

"Take the boy," Shotty ordered, "I'll get her."

Lefty and Righty turned towards Noah, but before they could move, Allison did. She laughed aloud, and charged straight for Shotty. He braced to meet her as the other three moved wide to cover her, and Shotty fired. Allison's charge was faster than Noah had expected, so he could not maintain the shield at the half-meter distance he was used to, so the bean-bag actually seemed to hit her, without slowing her in the slightest. A second shot had a similar result, and then she was too close, and Shotty, swung the weapon around, trying to catch her in the jaw with the end of the pistol-grip.

As she closed, Noah saw Mouth gesturing, and realized that, as he had suspected, the man was some sort of mage. A glance showed Lefty and Right focused completely on Allison, so he dropped his personal shield just long enough to shape a buster spell of pure force. Visible only as a vague distortion, it shot from his hands and slammed into Mouth's helmet hard enough to stagger the man. By the time he was upright, however, staring in surprise, Noah was once again behind his shield, and Allison was too close to Shotty for any magic.

Allison ducked under the high blow, sliding in the last meter, while whipping the rod in her hand around in a long vicious arc, which finished with the bulb at its tip hitting the side of Shotty's knee with a flash of released power. He grunted in surprise as his knee bent violently in a direction it was not meant to, sending him to the floor. Even as he fell, he tried to tackle Allison, but she spun away from him, bringing the rod around again to slam into his side, just above his kidney. To Noah's discomfort, she did not stop there, but as Shotty hit the ground, followed him down and hit him four more times, always someplace vulnerable, always someplace painful, and following it up with a shot of mace to his mask.

When she stood again a few seconds later, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she backed up, she was not even breathing hard, just flushed and grinning a little wider. Looking at the three remaining, still bouncing and shifting like a hyper-active boxer, she asked with obvious anticipation, "who's next?"

"I'd suggest dropping your weapons and lying on the ground," Noah told them. "She's usually pretty nice to start with, but gets more vicious the longer she fights. Over-excitement, you see?"

"Oh, come on, bean-pole," Allison complained, frowning at him, "You've gotta lemme have _some _fun. I want to see how long it'll take me to cripple someone."

It took the two soldiers almost ten seconds to decide to cooperate. They had seen both these 'kids' take shotgun blasts without a twitch, seen their commander taken down rather violently by the _girl_, and were locked in a room with the two. Lefty moved first, taking his right hand away from the shotgun's pistol grip, then holding out both hands to his sides. Righty followed, and a moment later Mouth also put his hands behind his head.

"On the floor, kneel down then lay face down," Noah ordered. The three complied, and once they were down, he established small lengths of shield behind their knees and necks to hold them there. "Now, let go of your weapons and put your hands behind your heads. You have restraints?"

"Zip ties," Allison commented, having been searching Shotty while Noah handled the others. She held up a cluster of white plastic strips, then pulled three out. In short order, she had Shotty, still groaning in pain and trying to curl up in a ball, zip-tied – ankles together, wrists together, and a third tying ankles to wrists. She tossed the cluster to Noah, "Get the other three, I'll keep an eye on them."

Noah picked up the packet from where it fell short, and did just that, starting with Mouth. Noah figured the man was the most dangerous, since he could still cast spells, but all he did was ask, "How the Hell did you kids get so powerful? You haven't even been here a year! Shields, bullets, physical enhancements, it's impossible!"

Noah snorted. "Hey, just 'cause your teachers had no idea what they were doing doesn't mean ours don't. God in Heaven, if _we're_ more than you can handle, you should be thanking your lucky stars you didn't take on Yussef or the other two."

Once all four were secured, and hauled to wall next to the door, he and Allison settled down at the back end of the room with the collected weapons. Noah no longer had any doubts as to the wisdom of waiting in here. Even if someone else managed to get into the workroom, he figured he and Allison could handle them, especially now that they had three shotguns and what she called a taser. He discounted Mouth's pistol, as that was loaded with real bullets, and neither of them was willing to go that far.

"So," he said after a couple minutes of silence, "that was pretty rough, what you did to that guy. He's still not coherent."

"Probably won't be walking again," Allison admitted, "not without surgery. That sort of knee hit usually rips the tendons up something fierce. It's something Daddy taught me. He really doesn't like the idea of his little girl getting in fights, but since it keeps happening, he figures I should know how to do it right. According to Daddy, the only way to 'do it right' is to win, which means making sure the other guy doesn't get up again. Plus, it's an intimidation thing. I've seen it before. You take down the leader hard and vicious, you'll scare his troops into backing off."

Before he could reply, he felt a tingle of magic, and heard Marcel, "Noah, you there?"

Noah held up a hand, then shaped a reply, "Hey, Marcel, I'm here, with Allison. We're locked in a workroom."

"Right, I'm at the cave Shamal told you about. Most of the class is with us. Say put, we're still figuring out what to do."

"We'll be here," Noah agreed, "just let us know when it's safe to come out." He cut the spell, relayed the information to Allison, and felt remarkably better. He had confidence in his teachers and his classmates, but confirmation that most of them were safe was worlds away better than mere confidence.

"Hey, Noah," Allison said after a minute.

"Yeah?"

"Thank's for getting my back there. I don't think I'd've been able to take these punks on my own."

Noah shrugged, "You're a friend, Allison, and a classmate. Isn't Hayate-sensei saying we're supposed to protect people with what we learn? Gotta start somewhere, and if I can't protect my friends, how can I protect anyone else? Also, I'd have even less chance against these guys. Remember, I'm pretty much all defense." He paused, thinking, then, "I'll make you a deal. You ever want someone to watch your back in a fight, give me a call. If I ever need someone beat down, I'll call you. Deal?" 

She laughed, then stuck out her hand, "you got a deal, bean-pole."

Yussef, naturally, interrupted them, "Noah, status please."

------------------------------

CrimsonDX: Megan's shape-shifting was fun, it's always been one of my favorite aspects of any sort of magic. As for were-creature forms, that's her goal, but I haven't decided yet if she can pull one off. That strikes me as significantly more complicated than a straight shift, as there's no pre-existing version. So... maybe.

TheWhiteMonk: Thanks, glad you liked the chapter. I was surprised to hear how much you like my characters, I keep worrying too many of them are turning out the same.

Kell Shock: I first found the word in White Wolf's World of Darkness, actually. In their game Werewolf, there's a supplement for Asian versions of all their changing-breeds, called Hengeyokai. I have to admit, I wasn't real impressed with the D&D version after that book (but I don't like most of D&D's approach to the Eastern mythological traditions). The change is not particularly noticeable, unless the observer's familiar with Megan's forms (she always takes the same version of a form, like all animals have unique fur markings). Aria did not notice because, in my opinion, she would be too trusting of her sister, and because Megan learned how to shift a lot faster than she should have. Hayate, in contrast, was kept up to date on Megan's progress, and is more sensitive to subtle magical flows like the shift, and to Megan's half-successful attempts at telepathy.

Aurica: Glad you enjoyed it (though my personal favorite's still the first chapter:). I held back the AB chapter with the attack specifically to post with this story, so there would be an explanation. I should have posted the above chapter at about the same time, but only had it outlined.


	5. 05 The Easier Path

**The Easier Path**

An Academy Blues Side Story

By Daishi Prime

"Oi, Ichigo."

He looked up at the whispered call, and was surprised to find Natalia standing at the door of the study-room. "Yeah, Natalia, what can I do for you?"

"I'm having trouble with some of these characters, I think they're not Japanese. Can you take a look for me?" In her hand she waved a sheaf of papers, computer print-outs from the look of them.

He quirked an eyebrow, and asked half-teasingly, "ugh, hard-copy?"

"Bite your tongue," she muttered back, "those PDA screens hurt my eyes after a while. You going to help, or just insult me?"

"Lemme see them," he said, "though if they're not Japanese, I won't be able to tell you much. I know the symbols used in China are technically the same, but the meanings can be radically different. I may speak a couple forms of Chinese, but I never really learned their alphabet."

"I know that," she said, dropping into the chair across from him and dumping the papers on top of his PDA. "I just want to be sure they really are a different language, and it's not Hayate-sensei's spell slipping. It's the characters circled in red."

There were only six pages, but the characters were small, less than a centimeter on a side, arranged in typical Japanese style of vertical columns, right to left. Two thirds or so were circled in red. He could tell by the time he got to the end of he first page that, however many were marked out in read, Natalia probably should have circled all of them. "Uh, yeah, _none _of this Japanese," he told her, "not even the characters you didn't circle. At a guess, I'd say one of the Chinese languages. Where'd you get this?"

Natalia actually dropped her head, fiddling with nothing on the table-top as she mumbled something.

"Sorry," he said, getting an inkling from her demeanor, "didn't catch that."

"From the restricted section," she hissed, "out of one of the grimoires."

Ichigo dropped the papers like they were on fire, flinching back hard enough to slide the wheeled hair back almost to the wall. For a second, he could only stare at her in shock. _The Wicked Witch of the Library broke into the restricted section?_ That thought alone was frightening, even after having known her only a month. More frightening was what part she had broken into. "The _grimoires_? Are you _insane_? We're not even supposed to think about that section until third year!"

"I wasn't sneaking," she shot back, reaching over to pull the sheaf of papers back. "I was helping Shamal-sensei by putting some books back on the open shelves, and Lotte-sensei dropped one when she checked out a few yesterday. I was going to give it right back, but... I saw something in it that interested me, so I photo-copied the section. That's all this is, one section, not even most of the grimoire! It's just the only part that wasn't in a language I can read."

"Kami-sama, you're as crazy as Laura is," he muttered, starting to calm down again. "You do realize how much trouble you're going to get into when you get caught with these, don't you?"

She shrugged, "Yeah, I know, but it's important to me."

"What's the section about, anyhow? Maybe we can figure out where it came from to base a translation off of."

She blinked at him, "What's this 'we', small-fry?"

"'We', as in 'you and I'," he replied, "and can it with the 'small-fry' stuff. I'll make you a bet... you know more languages than me, I'll drop it. I know more than you, you fork over those papers and we translate them together. Deal?" Translating the text would be an interesting challenge, and he was always up for a new language.

She frowned at him for a few moments, left eye twitching as she argued with herself, then nodded sharply, "deal! I speak five languages. Russian, Japanese, English, Finnish and a little Mandarin."

Ichigo leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, smiling smugly. "Eight," he told her in Russian, "Japanese, Russian, Mandarin, Cantonese, English, Spanish, Hindi and Arabic. I've got a gift for them, comes from growing up in a bilingual household. Pops is American, Mother is Japanese."

"Like I'm going to believe you," Natalia muttered.

Ichigo shrugged, and stood up, strolling out the door, gesturing for her to follow. Outside there was a rail at the edge of the balcony, looking over the first-floor's main area. He leaned over the rail for a moment, looking for one of the teachers, and spotted Aria at one of the lower tables. "Come on," he told Natalia, and strode off at a brisk walk. Natalia joined him a moment later, papers conspicuously absent, but remained silent until they reached Aria.

"Excuse me, Aria-sensei?"

She looked up from her book, glasses half-way down her nose, "Ah, yes, Ichigo-kun?"

"Natalia and I have a bit of a wager, and she doesn't believe my answer. I figure, you're the language teacher, she'd have to believe you. How many languages do I speak?" 

She glanced at Natalia for a moment, then answered, "Seven, by Bureau standards. Eight, if you follow Earth's conventions, and consider Mandarin and Cantonese separate languages."

Ichigo smiled broadly, and bowed his thanks, before turning to Natalia and holding out his right hand, palm up. She glared at him for a moment, then said, "Thank you, Aria-sensei," and slapped his hand down. Then she turned and stomped back up the stairs. Bowing again to Aria, Ichigo followed, just in time to catch the door before she slammed it. She shoved the papers at him, "Here, translate them already."

"Ah, ah, ah," he countered, "_we_ are going to translate them, Natalia-chan. That takes too long to say, would you object to Na-chan?"

"Would you object to loosing an ear? My grandmother can twist one right off, and I'd love the practice."

"Natalia it is, then." He settled back into his chair, then finally repeated his original question, "So, what book did it come out of?"

"On Death, by some woman named Precia Testarossa."

------------------------------

"She's not from Earth," he told her after a while, "which means the grimoire probably isn't written in any of our languages, however much it looks like it."

"So we won't be able to translate it," Natalia muttered while staring at the scree listing Precia Testarossa's data from the network, then sighed dejectedly. "Dammit, that was going to get me so much _closer."_

"Closer to what?"

She jerked upright, and snapped, "None of your business!"

Ichigo flinched back from that, holding up his hands defensively, "Okay! Okay! What made you think you could use this, anyhow?"

"The table of contents was written in Japanese, like about half the spells. This one was labeled..." she trailed off, then glared at him. "You don't tell anyone about this, understand? It's personal, it's private, and I'm smart enough not to try something that might get anyone killed, so no lectures about danger, either. Understood?"

Ichigo was not so certain of that last part yet, nodded his head slowly. If she proved to be lying, he could always tell the teachers. "I understand, I won't tell anyone... _unless _you just lied to me about safety. I'm not risking either of us for some experiment, savvy?"

"Idiot boy," she shot back, "never tell someone when you're going to betray them, that just tells them when to eliminate you by."

"Dad's a Marine," Ichigo shrugged, "Marines only lie when they're retreating, or talking to Congress."

"You're not a Marine."

"But Dad _is_, which means that's the standard I'm held to."

"Don't you mean 'was' a Marine?"

Ichigo gave her a pitying look, then shook his head slowly. "Natalia, Natalia, Natalia… once you're part of the Big Green Machine, you're always a part of it, even after you retire. Besides, you saw my Dad, right? Would _you_ want to risk pissing him off by lying to him, Marine or not?"

She thought about it for a second, then frowned and shook her head, "not particularly. Man looked like he could snap a two-by-four."

"Party trick," Ichigo said, smiling at the memory, "from back before I was born. Mom likes to drag that video clip out whenever she thinks he's getting too full of himself. But, anyhow, you were saying?"

She sighed again, and settled back in her chair, "I'd hoped you'd forgotten that."

"Not likely."

She huffed, then, "the spell is called 'Gate of the Dead'. All the rest sounded like they were resurrection type stuff, but that one... that one sounds different."

Ichigo frowned, turning that over in his mind. "Natalia," he said slowly, "I know magic is powerful, but bringing back the dead?" He shook his head, "I don't know who you lost, you have my sympathies for it, but I don't think anyone is that powerful."

She shook her head, and smiled sadly, "I know that. I'm not looking to resurrect anyone. I just... I need to know what's beyond death, Ichigo. That's all, I just need to know. And don't tell me 'Heaven' or 'Hell' or 'God's got a plan.' I just need to know. And no, I'm not thinking of trying to use it. Everything in that book I could understand, which wasn't much, required a Hell of a lot more than just one of those devices Laura's always going on about."

"Then why are you interested in it now? Give it a couple years, come back when you've got the device and the knowledge to handle it."

"Because if I wait that long," she muttered after a moment, "I may not have time to try it. I need to understand it now, so I only have to use it _once_."

Ichigo had to turn that one over in his head for a bit. _It almost sounds like she thinks she's going to die,_ he thought, _but surely Shamal could fix anything wrong with her, or get her to a hospital that could. This 'Bureau' they're all so tight-lipped about. So... she wants to communicate with someone who's already dead, or going to die, but not for years yet. _"Well," he said aloud, "whatever it is, it's bound to be interesting. Tell you what, I'll transcribe each of the characters – separate from each other! – into the computer, and see if the network has anything similar. If it can find a match, we can translate the individual characters, and then put together a whole-text translation from that. It'll take a while, but unless there's some specific term in it that's 'red-flagged', we should be able to avoid any official notice."

"That's what I planned to do if you couldn't translate it," Natalia admitted, "but it's going to take time."

"Not really," he shook his head, "just a matter of a photocopier and a scanner. Unless you happen to have any extra copies?"

She smirked, "You mean, like the complete copy?" At his surprised blink, her smirk grew, "the complete spell's something like fifty pages, mostly diagrams. The six or so you've got is, I think, the general overview and description. Yeah, I've got another copy."

"In which case," he leaned sideways, into his bag, and pulled out a small pair of scissors, and promptly began cutting the papers apart, going across the columns. "We can scramble the strips into a random order," he said, as the first fell away, "then pick out the characters with recognition software and go to town. It'll still take a while, but at least the initial grunt-work'll be easier."

------------------------------

A week later, Natalia had to work to calm herself down, eventually resorting to the meditative trances Lotte-sensei had taught them. The note from Ichigo, slipped into her book-bag that morning at breakfast, had been short and simple: _match found, translation running, ETA 2 PM_. It had taken an act of will to drag herself to class and sit through all of them. Only Ichigo's occasional knowing smirk kept her from disappearing at lunch to check on the translation's progress. That, and the fact that it was probably running on his PDA, which meant she would only get a look at it when he was good and ready to show it to her.

Grabbing one of the study rooms after class as simple enough. She had long since established her dominance in the library, the one luxury she had always felt was lacking at her old schools. The quiet, the books, the sheer impact of all that knowledge gathered into one place had thrilled her since she was a little girl. The idea that she could lay her hands on any piece of information in the world in a matter of minutes was too wonderful for words, and far too wonderful to put up with people disturbing the requisite tranquility.

Ichigo took his time, however, and she was pacing by the time he finally did show up, that irritating 'I know something you don't know' smirk firmly in place. He did not say anything, simply slid his PDA across the table before closing the door behind him. Natalia grabbed it, and found herself face-to-face with a long, _long _string of kanji. He gave her enough time to realize what it meant, before saying complacently, "that is one _dense _language, Natalia. I've always been proud of how concise Japanese writing can be, entire concepts in one symbol, but this... this is ridiculous. You could write a book in just a couple of its symbols. According to the network, it's practically a mage-rune language, and there are maybe three living people known to be able to read it, none of whom are at this school. I think that alone might get us caught, since the only place I can think of any of us encountering it is out of the restricted section. But, there's every character in those six pages, and if any new characters pop up in the actual spell, we've got the reference available to look them up."

"You're the best, Ichigo," she whispered, still pouring over the list of translated characters, "the absolute best."

His smirk faltered a little, then he shrugged, "yeah, well, it's still going to take time to actually translate the _spell_. If you weren't so worried about it alerting the teachers, we could have the PDAs manage it in an afternoon, but... this'll take a while."

"That's fine. Better a while now than never."

------------------------------

_This simple spell has proven too limited, to mundane, for my purposes. My darling Alicia is beyond its reach, for her passing came about before this futile masterpiece could be brought to fruition. Had I known of it, mastered it, before she was taken from me, I could perhaps forgo the next uncertain step, the great leap into the unknown, but the Gods have turned from me once again, building my hopes, only to dash them once more upon their cruel indifference. To reach beyond death and return a single solitary soul from that cold emptiness is all I ask, yet this spell can only accomplish such for one bound to it in life. A year gone, I would call this masterpiece my life's work, and celebrate it joyously. Now, its completion leaves me emptier than before._

_Useless._

"Man, she had high standards," Ichigo commented. The final passage of the spell, Testarossa's evaluation of it, was what finally convinced him she was totally insane. The spell she had just described as 'simple' was so far beyond anything they had learned that Ichigo doubted anyone in the class, except _maybe _Noriko or Niranjana, would ever be able to even understand half of it.

"She was desperate," Natalia countered, "desperate to find a way to cheat death of her daughter's life. Think about it, Ichigo. How would you feel, if your son was killed?"

"I wouldn't be trying to punch a hole in reality, that's for certain sure," he said, flicking the stack of hand-written notes. What had been fifty pages in the cramped script and dense language of the grimoire translate out to over four hundred hand-written pages, and that was not including the painfully precise diagrams and sigils. "This thing... Natalia, I really hope you aren't going to ever try and cast this spell. It's just too much... too much power, too much risk, too much pain."

"I'm not going to try it," she said, "but I can modify it, I think. All I want... all I want to do is say goodbye."

"If they're already dead..."

"He isn't, not yet. But he can't hear me."

"Well, I don't think this'll work," Ichigo said, "even if we could cast it."

"I know, I never really expected it to," she said sadly, "but..."

"But Precia Testarossa's works are all locked up in the restricted section," Hayate informed them.

Natalia flinched down, protecting ears and head by reflex, then looked up to find the Headmistress standing in the door. Her arms were crossed and, for the first time in Natalia's memory, she had a real frown on her face, instead of the non-smile she usually used. _Oh, crap, she's pissed,_ Natalia thought. "I... I wasn't going to do anything with it, Headmistress. I decided that even before..."

"That is immaterial, Morisovich-san, McClure-san. The two of you know full well that the restricted section is entirely off-limits to students." Her voice had not risen in the slightest, but Natalia could feel herself shrinking in her chair at the oh-so-slight tone of disappointed disapproval, like Hayate was addressing a pair of toddlers she should not have expected would be able to understand the rules given them.

"I'm sorry, Headmistress," Natalia whispered, "I found it in the open on the third floor, I think someone dropped it. I should have put it back without reading it, but..."

"Yes, you should have. Are these all the copies you have?" 

"No, Headmistress," Ichigo answered her, "Natalia and I each have a copy in our rooms, as well as partial translations."

"Give me everything you have here, then go get those copies. I want everything, including your PDAs. The two of you are grounded until further notice. Your PDAs will be waiting for you in homeroom tomorrow, and you will turn them in to me at the end of my class each day. You can use the terminals here to study. If I find either of you has kept even a single symbol from these, I will expel the both of you. Now go!"

Natalia did not question, merely shoved all her papers together and handed them to Hayate on her way out, mere steps behind Ichigo. She felt sick to her stomach, terrified that she had just screwed up the best thing to happen to her in years. All she wanted to do was get away and hide, as quickly as possible.

She was almost to the library's main door when Hayate called out, "Natalia, Ichigo! Wait."

Natalia hunched up again, fearing something in the notes had pushed Hayate's temper to the edge, that she was about to be publicly expelled, but she stopped and turned nonetheless. Hayate was still frowning as she walked down the stairs and over to them, but she was frowning at the papers in her hand. "You translated this? All of it?"

"The computers provided the meaning of each character, Headmistress," Ichigo said, when Natalia could not find her voice.

"But you conducted the actual translation yourselves?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Hayate finally looked up at them again, then freed one hand and sketched a symbol in the air, leaving a set of glowing lines floating. It rotated in place until it was facing them. "What does this mean?"

Ichigo shrugged, "I would have to look over the master list of symbols, ma'am, I'm afraid I don't..."

"It's a double metaphor," Natalia whispered, "the character translates to Japanese as 'a wall passable only in one direction', used as a reference for both death, and birth. As Ichigo told me, it's a very dense language."

"It is the oldest known language," Hayate told them, "that of Al Hazred, crafted over thousands of years into a language of magic. The two of you are fortunate you did not cast that spell simply by translating it. Both of you will report to Aria tomorrow after classes for tests on how much of this you can read. Now, go get me those copies. I'll be in my office."

------------------------------

"I am sorry, Mistress. We have the only complete copy of that work, and Yuuno-kun had requested a certain section of it for a case. Lotte dropped it while she was returning several other books to the restricted shelves and did not notice. Natalia-chan turned it in to Shamal-san while I was still putting the other books away. I did not think she had time to even look at it." Aria was sitting at the coffee table in Hayate's office, Shamal across from her, while Hayate sat at her desk. A massive stack of paper sat in front of the Headmistress, capped by a pair of PDAs. Aria's ears drooped as she continued, "I should have..."

"Don't worry about it, Aria," Hayate reassured her, "I'm not angry at you. It could have happened to any of us. It's Natalia I'm angry with, she should have turned that book in immediately without taking anything out of it. And Ichigo, for not turning her in when she told him where she got the spell."

"At least they were not planning to try and use it," Shamal offered, trying to find some bright spot. "They were smart enough not to do that."

"But they still translated it. Just learning that language is dangerous."

"That is superstition, Hayate," Shamal countered, "the language of Al Hazred is no different than any other language."

"Not quite," Aria whispered, "Al Hazred really is the base language for magic. The sigils and runes we all use, even Hayate-san's, are derived from it. Also, to truly speak a language, you must incorporate some of that language's fundamental concepts and outlooks. The society that creates a language influences everyone who ever speaks it, though that influence can change over time. Al Hazred's language is dangerous for that reason. There is no word in it for 'hubris', or 'folly'. The concepts themselves are missing from that language, and everyone who learned to speak it since has been... dangerous. They have not all been mad, as Precia was, but they all lacked the moral strength of their contemporaries. Whether this is a facet of the language itself, or of those who seek to learn it, is up for debate, but the statistics are clear."

Shamal stared at her for a few moment, contemplating having a student such as that, then shook her head, "I just cannot see that from Natalia and Ichigo. Yussef or Laura, maybe, but Natalia and Ichigo? No."

"I can," Hayate told her, "I can see that quite easily, and it is something we will have to be aware of, if either of them did truly learn even part of this language. The symbol I showed them? I learned it from Sara's memories. She spoke the language of Al Hazred fluently, Shamal, though she rarely used it. Aria, you'll test them tomorrow. If either of them truly learned any part of that language... make sure they learn all of it. While you're teaching them that, make sure they understand that we will be watching them for the rest of their lives, and why."

Aria blinked at her in surprise, "W... why do you want them to learn all of it, Mistress?"

"Something from Sarah's memories," Hayate said, "learning part of it is worse than learning all of it. That language is more than just words and rules for stringing them together, Aria. If I could, I would have it classified as a Lost Logia in its own right."

------------------------------

The test took only a few minutes, and proved to be far less of one than Natalia had expected. She had come prepared for hours spent working on a PDA, answering questions and translating weird characters – or at least, _trying _to do those things. Instead, she and Ichigo found themselves sitting on a chair in Aria's classroom while, one at a time, she placed her fingers on their temples and initiated a magical probe of their minds.

When she had finished with both of them, she leaned against her desk. "Well, Ichigo, it appears you lucked out. You never really picked up any of the language, so you're just grounded until the end of your life. You, Natalia, _did _pick up some of the language, which is a dangerous thing indeed. So in addition to being grounded until the end of time, you are going to have to put up with extra lessons from me until you are fluent in the language, and capable of avoiding the mental fallacies inherent to it."

Ichigo frowned at that, asking, "That seems kinda backward, sensei. I thought I was the one with a gift for languages?"

"You do," Aria replied, "you have a gift for learning _spoken _languages. I'm willing to bet I could drop you in any culture in the world, speaking any language, and you would be able to communicate within a few days. But this is not a spoken language, not really and especially not the way you were working on it. It's a written language. Also," she turned and gave Natalia a sympathetic look, "Natalia had personal motivation to learn, even if she wasn't consciously aware that was what she was doing. So, she picked it up, enough for it to stick, while you did not."

"Um, sensei?" Natalia left off contemplating what the extra lessons would mean, to ask, "Can Ichigo be part of the lessons anyhow? It would go easier with two of us, someone to help us study. Besides, he'll probably try and learn it himself, now."

"I'll talk to Hayate-sama about it, but don't get your hopes up. She is very disappointed in both of you. Now, I believe you both have studying to do, so get to the Library. Remember, common area only, and straight to your rooms after dinner. Natalia, I'll see you back here, same time tomorrow, for your first lesson. Ichigo, I'll let you know tomorrow if you're going to be included as well. Now scoot."

As they walked to the Library, Ichigo asked, "why do you want me to be in on these lessons, Natalia?"

She shrugged, uncertain of the reasons herself. "I just do. I wasn't kidding, it will be easier to learn if there's someone else to study with, but... I don't know. But it's up to you, if they offer."

"Oh, I'm in," Ichigo replied with a grin, "gotta do something to keep up with everyone else, ne?"

------------------------------

Ichigo was included in the lessons, and both of them were sworn never to share what they learned while at the school. None of their classmates would be learning the language, and Hayate impressed upon both of them that they should probably never teach it to _anyone_. Natalia was curious about that at first, but after the history lesson their first session turned into, she could not help but agree. Aria's lecture on how languages evolved to match their societies was simple, but clear, as was the example of Al Hazred itself.

While she had never had any sort of gift for languages, she found picking up the complicated Al Hazred tongue relatively easy, far easier than Japanese would have been, had she learned that in the traditional manner. Ichigo struggled at first, but soon began catching up to her, so by the end of the second week the two of them were both operating at the same level.

Natalia noticed an effect on her magic almost immediately. The changes were subtle, and did nothing to make her spells more efficient or powerful, better stabilized or more precise. The spells were simply _different_, drawing on her linker core strangely. It was extremely discomfiting, not physically but mentally, as she became quite concerned about where those changes would lead. While it was just a weird sense of difference now, might it develop into something more pronounced?

During the second week, that 'more pronounced' came to pass, when she realized that if she pictured an Al Hazred symbol in her mind, one that matched the spell she was casting, and shaped the spell through that, she could achieve somewhat greater effects than normal. It was not a spectacular effect, but it was noticeable, and about what they had been told to expect when they began using Midchildan sigils in their second year, but without having use multiple symbols. She brought that to Aria's and Lotte's attention, and was promptly ordered never to experiment with it outside their specific lessons. The language lessons were then moved to one of the smaller workrooms, even when they were not studying how it affected her magic.

Ichigo noticed a similar effect on his magic, but again was somewhat behind her. He could speak the language quite well, but apparently had trouble actually thinking in it the way Natalia came to. He had to work very hard just to get his magic to form through the symbol, though he, too, noticed a difference in how he cast even the most basic of spells. It became a bit of a running argument between them, as to who was learning faster, Ichigo who could speak the language with increasing ease, or Natalia, who could actually put the language to use.

What she did not report was her continued exploration of Precia Testarossa's 'Gate of the Dead' spell. While her memory of the specific sigils, patterns and structure of the spell was incomplete, she remembered enough of it to sketch out an outline, and to recall the concepts upon which it was based. The spell had drawn, not just on the caster's linker core, but on an aspect of all living things, and she was honestly curious as to what, precisely, that something was. Precia's notes had referred to it as 'the power of Death', but Natalia wondered if it might actually be what powered life, and what drawing on it would cost.

She could not do much, not daring to try and actively research it given how closely she and Ichigo were now being watched, but she had plenty of note paper available and was soon filling her notebook with theories, conjectures, remembered sigils, and Al Hazred symbols that she thought might be applicable. It became a question not of whether she would be able to experiment with any of it, and became a question of _when_. Which left the problem of how to get away with it.

------------------------------

Winter Break arrived like a god-send. She finished her exams, watched in awe as Laura demonstrated Paradox, and very carefully packed her notes in the case she was taking home. She would copy them while she was home, leaving some there in case her notes here were found and confiscated. Vita teleported her home to a park in St. Petersburg, where her grandmother met her and dragged her home, chattering all the while about how her cousins, aunts, uncles and other relatives were doing.

The first few days were spent on Christmas, and on visiting with her family. She grew somewhat tired of re-telling the tales of her past months in Japan, especially the constant reprimands when Mother Morisovich related the reason she spent most of the semester grounded. Even her younger cousins got on her case, mimicking their parents' insistence that she should have returned the grimoire un-read. Despite the repeated admonishments, she actually found herself rather enjoying the days off. The constant sound of cheerful rumbling Russian was a far cry from the spastic chatter of Japanese, and the old scents and sights of a Russian Winter, especially one spent in her grandmother's apartment, were so very comforting.

She did find time to get most of her notes copied, generally late at night. She had found that, through judicious use of a few Al Hazred runes related to energy and healing, she could get by on less sleep than normal, though she was worried about taking that too far, and limited herself to one 'pick-me-up' per day. It was on her fourth day home that she finally had a chance to test the idea she had so painstakingly worked out over the past two months.

As it had for years, approaching the hospital filled her with a sense of dread and pain like nothing else. Even her grandmother at her side, the rock upon which her entire family was built, did not help. Still, as she had once told Laura, she was Russian, and Russians knew how to handle tragedy – their entire history was the world's longest and greatest tragedy, after all. So she followed her grandmother in, and up to the long-term care wards, and to the quiet section at the rear of that quiet ward.

Her brother lay in the same state he had for three years, unmoving save for the slow rise and fall of his chest, eyes unseeing despite being open. Small droppers rested over his eyes, releasing saline in slow measured trickles to keep the eyes from drying out, as he had not blinked in three years, nor had he moved any other voluntary muscle. IVs fed liquids and nutrients directly into his blood stream, and other tubes carried wastes away. His body remained, automatic processes still fulfilling their purpose, supported by the best in modern Russian medicine, but there was no reaction, no presence, no Sasha. He had been trapped in that coma for three years, sustained by grants from medical schools who sought to study his condition, the better to try and free him, and those like him, from its confines.

Natalia knew all of that, but she had long since grieved for him. He was, in her mind, gone, never to return, killed in the same accident that took her parents, her aunt, and very nearly took her as well. To her, this shell was a left-over, a cruel error of divine book-keeping, inflicted on her family to forever remind them of that loss. But, however cruel, it was still all that was left of Sasha in this world, and she did not begrudge her grandmother the visits even before she left for Japan. Now, she had reason to anticipate it, to look forward to it.

For a while, she helped her grandmother tidy up the cramped room, exchanging wilted flowers for new, checking Sasha over to make sure his condition had not worsened, and trying to pretend he might one day wake. Finally, however, she asked, "Grandmother? Could I... could I have a few minutes alone with him? I... I just wanted to..."

For a moment, she thought the old woman would cry. But her grandmother just pulled her close, giving her a strong hug. "I'll just head down to see if the nurse's station needs me to bring anything the next time," she said. "Take as long as you need."

Natalia held the door for her, then made sure it was completely closed. Once alone, she leaned back against the door, staring at Sasha for a moment, feeling herself shaking with fear. What she was about to try was ad-hoc magic based on partially-understood theories from a mad-woman's most insane work, but it was the best she thought she could do, and she felt the press of time all too keenly. Steeling herself after a moment, she reached into her jacket and pulled out a folded set of notes, and a sharp-pointed felt pen.

Moving quickly, she lowered the side-guard and sat down sideways, then rolled the blankets down, revealing her brother's wasted chest. She unfolded the papers, setting them on the side table so she could read them clearly, then leaned over her brother and began very carefully drawing the runes upon his skin. The black ink looked grotesque on his pale skin, but she ignored that, persevering.

Her brother had been the brightest point in her life for as long as she could remember. Over a decade older than she, he had been more like a second father than a brother, and she missed him terribly. She had hated Katerina at first, thinking the woman he married was stealing him from her. But Katerina had become part of their family as well, the few short months they had been married. Until some drunken Army Private hauling a T-90 tank rammed his semi into their little car. The funeral had given her the chance to say good bye, to let go of everyone else, but Sasha had remained, trapped between life and death.

For a time, she had wanted him to die as well, to free herself of this nagging grief by removing the source. But, like her grandmother, she could not give up that last sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, God would be as merciful as his clergy claimed he was, and return Sasha to them. Now, she would have her insurance, she would have her way to tell him how much he meant, how much she missed him, how much she wished he could be at peace.

When she was finished, his chest was covered in Al Hazred runes, with one more on each side of his neck, on each cheek, and in the center of his forehead. She had done as much research as she dared, been as careful as she could, and she knew this would probably get her expelled, if not worse, but... it was for her brother, and she would pay any price for him. It took her another minute to inscribe the runes on her palms and the backs of her hands, moving carefully as she wrote on her right hand, determined to make each character precisely correct. That was followed by an even more careful minute standing before the mirror over the room's tiny sink, carefully inscribing a rune beneath her left eye.

Finally ready, she returned to the bed and gathered her power, touching each rune in turn and sending just enough energy to it to make it glow. Once all the runes on both of them were lit, she placed her left hand on his forehead, her right on over his heart, and began to chant the spell aloud, drawing all the energy she could stand from her linker core and pouring it into the linked runes and the spell she spun.

"Gate of Death, open before my gaze," she intoned, "grant me sight beyond your portal and bring me the one who lays here, between my hands, within my power. Send my words to him, bring his words to me, and show me the path, as I command thee."

She felt it, as she began, that other power Precia had referenced, coming from within her but not from her linker core, felt it twine about the spell she was crafting and merge with it. Then she felt something more, something beyond her power, responding, approaching. It was cold, but she was Russian, and cold did not bother her. What did wake a sliver of fear was the sense of sheer immensity, of unmatchable scale and unbendable endurance. It approached at a terrible rate, and her vision faded to black as her spell brought it to a crashing halt around her.

When the blackness cleared slightly, a moment later, she found herself standing between massive black cliffs, their tops lost in unfathomable altitude capped by roiling black clouds. Before her, set into the very stones, stood a pair of massive gates, towering far higher than any building, wider than any stadium, covered with faces. A sense of oppressive age, power, and irresistible inevitability weighed down upon her, almost sending her to her knees. After a moment, she recognized the faces on the gate, those closest to the bottom and the seam, as her lost ones – her mother, her father, her grandfather, even Katerina. But there was no trace of Sasha, the one she had come here seeking.

With a booming creak, the gates began to open, swinging away from her with ponderous slowness. As they opened, she could feel the drain on her magic growing, the spell continuing despite her distraction, until she thought she might pass through that gate due to the spell's drain. The doors finally boomed against the walls of a tunnel, however, and she began to hope again, hope that her efforts had worked. A light appeared, a brilliant white pinprick, that grew brighter and larger, approaching with growing speed, faster and faster, until she felt like a rabbit staring at an on-coming train.

The light slammed into her with physical force, launching her into the wall with a wrench. She cried out in surprise and pain, as her spell was shattered and her head hit the wall. She slumped down, dazed and fighting unconsciousness, as the power she had raised continued to spiral. It was rapidly growing out of control, continuing to draw energy from her and from whatever she had just touched. Acting on instinct, she seized at her spell's remnants, struggling against the chaotic power to stop its spiral, striving now to tear it apart.

She could not risk just setting it loose, she knew that immediately. Even if it did no damage to the hospital, or the sick and injured around her, it would be a flare, drawing her teachers – or worse – and that would be the end of her. So as she pulled at the spell's structure, she dragged the energy into herself, shunting it into a hasty 'ground' to dissipate its force harmlessly, as Lotte had shown all of them. It was the hardest she had ever worked at magic, struggling to hold onto her power, disassemble the spell, and pour all that energy into her ground, and for a time she balanced on a knife's edge of destruction. But slowly, slowly, she gained the upper hand, drawing off more power than the out-of-control spell could draw in, bringing it back under control and dissipating it.

She relaxed at just the wrong moment, as the last energies of the spell were almost dissipated, and that remainder exploded through her on its way to her ground, leaving her with a searing pain in her left eye. She collapsed to the ground again, both hands going to hold the burning orb in her face, but she retained enough control not to scream, not to give any sign to anyone outside the room that they might want to investigate.

Finally the pain ebbed, and she relaxed again. For a few minutes, she just lay there on the floor, getting her labored breathing under control, feeling the sweat on her skin soak into her clothes. Eventually she heaved up onto her knees, gaze going automatically to Sasha. The runes she had so painstakingly scribed on him were gone, as were those on her hands. She felt disappointed, and not just at her spell's failure, but it would make covering up whatever had happened that much easier. She replaced the blankets carefully, then retrieved her notes and pen, hiding them once more in her jacket.

As she turned to leave, her eyes swept over the mirror, and she froze with her hand on the door. Turning back, she walked over slowly, eyes going wide with fear. Just beneath her left eye stood an Al Hazred rune, a dark green in color, the same rune Hayate had first used to catch her knowledge of the language. Worse, above it, her plain brown right eye stared in shock at her left, now a gray so pale it was almost lost against the white of her eye.

"Kuso," she muttered, reaching up to touch the new mark on her face, "no way am I going to be able to hide _this_ from Hayate-sensei."

_No, no you won't,_ Hayate's voice commented in her mind. A moment later, Natalia felt a wave of power, and her Headmistress appeared in the room, just beyond Sasha's bed. She gave Natalia a sad look, then shook her head, "I had hoped you would stop before going this far, but..." she trailed off, giving a slight sigh.

"You... you knew?" Natalia stared at her in shock, "you knew what I was doing?"

"Noriko noticed the notes once, while she was helping you study. She did not see much, but she saw enough. Ichigo was also concerned, when your punishment ended and you continued to hide away in your room." Hayate moved around the foot of the bed, reaching out to take Natalia's chin in one hand, pushing her head around and up slightly. As she studied the symbol burned into Natalia's cheek, she continued, "We monitored you very closely after I caught you the first time. Since the lecture and punishment for that, and your repeated lessons in what happened to everyone _else _who followed this path, all proved ineffective in dissuading you from it, I decided to... help things along. I gave you just enough information to get this far... as Laura would put it, just enough rope for you to hang yourself."

Natalia heard that and felt a fist constrict about her heart. She had thought this would be the price to pay for a chance, and thought she had accepted that, but to hear what Hayate had just said, to realize that she truly was going to be expelled, and that the Headmistress had allowed it, known all along...

"Now, you will carry this mark with you forever," Hayate continued, apparently oblivious to the tears welling up in Natalia's eyes. "One other has born this mark, one of Precia's assistants, from before she went truly insane. He tried something similar to what you just did. Ever after, whenever he used his magic, every restless spirit in the area would come to him. The Bureau did their best, but the poor man went unutterably insane, before committing suicide by burning himself out. I had hoped you would have enough sense not to try this, but now..."

"I understand," Natalia whispered, "would you be willing to send my things..."

"No, you do not understand," Hayate said, finally withdrawing her hand. She moved to sit on the corner of Sasha's bed, cocking her head sideways. "Do you really think, Natalia, that I will expel you? Why would I do that? What you have done was dangerous, stupid, and selfish, yes. It was based on information you obtained from a grimoire that, quite frankly, you should never even have known existed. But it was only based on that information. The spell itself was your own creation. However stupid, it was not forbidden. It is now, of course, and if I ever catch you teaching it to another, even after you graduate from my school, you will wish I _had _expelled you. As I said, however, I arranged this. It was risky, yes, and you could very easily have died, but you demonstrated a stubborn refusal to listen to reason. So, this became your object lesson. You will bear that mark and that burden forever, because you could not exercise the patience necessary to understand what you were doing, and why it is forbidden."

As Hayate described her error, it sounded remarkably like a similar situation, and Natalia felt a stir of anger as she demanded, "Then what about Laura and all? Why aren't you lecturing them about their devices?!"

Hayate quirked an eyebrow at her. "What makes you think we did not? As we did with them, I am discussing this private lesson with you, before anyone else at the school knows about it. This is also an entirely different matter, Natalia, as you well know. Devices are proven, stable technology, and despite their grandiose plans, the Terrible Trio did not do anything too exotic to them. You, here, have used a powerful magical tool to attempt to break one of the universe's most fundamental aspects. Death comes for all things, Natalia, from the lowliest single-celled life, to the greatest and most titanic of stars. And you, in your arrogance, sought to circumvent that, in however small a manner, using the language of a fallen and foolhardy people. You are fortunate not to have died, or worse."

The incident was too new, and the awful power she had sensed before the Gate was too clearly beyond her, for Natalia to remain angry for more than a few moments, and she hung her head again, feeling the same fearful shame settle on her shoulders again. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Good, but not enough," Hayate told her. The woman stood, and stepped up close again. She pressed a glowing hand to Natalia's eye for a moment. "That illusion will hold until you return to the campus, to keep anyone from asking questions. What you tell your classmates is up to you, though I suggest you tell them the truth. I will, eventually, as before the year is out, what you just did will be an object lesson for all of them. Now, I suggest you collect your grandmother and head home. We will pick you up as scheduled."

Natalia nodded, and shuffled to the door. Just before she opened it, however, she heard, "I am sorry for your loss, Natalia, but there is nothing that can be done for him. He is gone, let him go."

------------------------------

Ichigo was one of the few people to arrive back at the school by mundane means. His father was quite happy to see the place again, even covered in snow, taking pride in a well-done job, and curious about the mix of other students. They spent most of Sunday morning packing away his things and poking about the campus. His father was more than a little disturbed by the workrooms, but managed not to actually complain about the impossibility of it. Shortly after noon, Ichigo managed to escape as his father was talking with Hayate and Shamal about the buildings, making sure they had not had any problems related to his work.

He went looking for any of his friends who were back, but the first person he ran into was the last he expected to see. Natalia was sitting in the dining hall, a sheaf of notes spread before her. He walked over a little cautiously, "Hey, Natalia, how was break?" When she looked up, he could not help a grunt of surprise at the sight of her piebald gaze and new tattoo. "Oh, Kami-sama," he whispered, "you tried something, didn't you?"

She nodded, "Yes, Ichigo, I did, and it backfired, like you no doubt expected. Don't worry, I'm not angry at you. It's actually kind of useful, in a sick and twisted way."

"What... what happened?" 

She shook her head, "Not yet. I'm not ready for that, yet. But I'll tell you this, Ichigo. You will father three children, I can see the energies of their lives already forming within your own. You will also die before your time, though I cannot say how. Only that your death will come before your life is done." She gave him a lopsided smile, "I see that about everyone, now – their children, their deaths. I can't help it. Even when I can see nothing else, I can see that." Then the smile shifted, to a creepy sort of happy, "oh, and I'd like to introduce you to my brother, Sasha." She held out a hand, and he saw the power flow of her fingertips. It coalesced, forming slowly into a misty human form, that suddenly snapped into translucent definition, showing a man about Hayate's age. The translucent figure smiled at him, and waved. "He says hello," Natalia added, staring at him expectantly.

For a moment, he felt a finger of utter dread run down his spine. That was, he had no doubt, an honest-to-God _ghost_, and Natalia had just manifested it with ease. That instinctive part of his brain wanted to run screaming for a teacher, or maybe a priest, but after a moment, he calmed down. "So, you're being haunted these days, are you? Cool," he matched her creepy grin with an amused one of his own as he sat down across from her, "maybe we can use it to take Laura down a peg or two." He started to reach out across the table, then thought better of it and settled for a matching wave, "Konichiwa, Sasha-san, welcom to Japan and Yagami Academy."

Natalia chuckled, "You're the best, Ichigo."

------------------------------

Author's Note 1: I know, I know, I haven't updated Academy Blues in a while. I assure you, I'm working on it, but the next chapter's been a pain for weeks now. I wrote out all the fun stuff I had imagined... and found myself with about three pages of utter crap. So I went back to the beginning and started over, and got a little further. Then, while trying to expand on that, Inspiration showed up with a Desert Eagle .50, and I'm not one to argue with that much firepower, thus this little travesty. Still, working on this gave me an idea and a work-around for a couple of the niggling problems I'm having with the next chapter of Academy Blues, so it's a good thing. Really. Trust me!

Author's Note 2: This story strays rather farther from Nanoha canon than even I usually go, further than even the Deva magic does, as far as what magic can accomplish. My apologies for that, but the idea ran away with me and I actually like it. It doesn't set up much for the main story line (though it will see use there to help me break my current bout of writer's block), but I think it's pretty cool in its own right. And no, necromancy is not Natalia's 'defined talent', so far as I know she doesn't have one.

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TheWhiteMonk: I can't claim personal experience on a reservation, but I do have a couple Native American friends. Allison is, in large part, based on what they've told me, as well as what friends of Irish descent have told me, combined with a very general historical knowledge. I agree with your opinion on how disgusting the history is, but I'm very much of Noah's view on it – don't forget it, but don't take personal credit (or blame) for it. My ancestors got it almost as bad from any number of invaders who were better only in that they were open in their attempts at genocide. I'm not saying my ancestors had it worse, or that there aren't things that are just as bad happening today, just that no one has a monopoly on oppressed history or oppressed present. And now I'm ranting, so I'll stop before I say something that gets me banned. Barriers and Brawls wasn't intended to comment on this subject, despite it being a facet of Allison's character – that's all it was brought up for, to give her background.

Kell Shock: Allison's cloak can be quite powerful, for exactly the reason she mentioned (if you can't see it…). I'm debating how far to take it and/or expand on it, but that'll come about later. As for Noah's shields... more than shield-bashing, I think he'd want to learn how to generate those mirror shields Yussef was using for their first training class (Chapter 16 – Jadeed Zulfiqar). I put in that bit about the view of that Circle mage mostly because I had not been able to figure out where to put it in the main story, but yes, that is one of the reasons the Circle is having so much trouble – they're basing their estimates of the kids' capabilities off their own apprentices' capabilities. None of the combats described there really had a 'post battle discussion' like Allison's and Noah's.

pfeil: thanks for pointing that out, you are correct! It was supposed to be 'neither of them' (but while 'were willing' will technically work, 'was willing' flows better and is equally acceptable, since they are still referenced separately as individuals). Since you are, I believe, the first person to point out a specific error, I'd say this qualifies as a review (even if it was a bloody PM:)!


	6. 06 Strong Right Hand

**Strong Right Hand**

An Academy Blues Side Story

By Daishi Prime

Time Frame: this begins shortly after the Kyoto trip, and events extend from there through the immediate aftermath of Operation Nimrod.

------------------------------

Marcel studied the holographic screen doubtfully. Ichigo and Toushiro had covered it in calculations, theories, and projections, but something about it just made him nervous. "You two are serious? You think you can create a reactive shield that will block an attack, then launch a counter-attack, without any further action from the mage? And you want me to help you test it?"

"Ummm, no," Ichigo said slowly, "we want you to tell us what we missed. See, all this," he waved generally at the notes, "is wonderful, great stuff. The numbers come out right, the theories mesh..."

"But it doesn't work," Toushiro interrupted, "it doesn't work at all. It's a good thing we've only tried anything here, since these shields will take just about anything. The first time we tried it, the shield formed all right – bounced the incoming buster just fine, too. Then the damn thing blew up bigger 'n Laura's attempt at fireworks."

Marcel considered that for a moment, "Niranjana would be better for this than me."

"Thought of that," Toushiro agreed. "She's got some big project of her own, though, and when she's not working on that she's working with Allina. Thought of Yussef, too, but he's off trying to get a date with Laura or something."

Marcel flinched in surprise at that, then glared at Ichigo. "He's not trying to get a 'date' with Laura."

"Yeah, sure he's not," Toushiro chuckled. "He keeps disappearing with her and Noriko, it's obvious. He's got a thing for Laura, that's why he keeps fighting with her, she won't respond to anything else. Thing is, I think she's got a thing for Noriko, and Noriko's trying to get Laura and Yussef hooked up."

"Oh give it a rest, Shiro-kun," Ichigo muttered, "you're soap-opera fan-boy obsessions aside, those three are working on something for Hayate-sensei, not trying get dates with each other. Anyhow, that eliminates the four best choices for this, and there's no way Shiro – or me, for that matter – is going to ask Natalia."

"You could," Toushiro countered, "you spend enough time working with her and Aria-sensei."

"Yeah, I _could_," Ichigo agreed, "but I'm _not going to_. Natalia's got her hands full as it is."

"Great," Marcel muttered as the two descended into what was obviously a re-hash of an old argument, "I'm option six... no, eight, because these two obviously have no idea what they're doing." He turned back to the screen, looking over the calculations and notes again with a more thorough inspection. It all looked good to him, a slightly unstable but otherwise basic shield with built-in transition, a reliable trigger component Lotte had taught them back in September, all capped off with a basic buster spell.

Without looking away from the screen, Marcel interrupted the argument, "Show me. Show me the spell, let me see what happens for myself. I think we'll want Zafira-sensei or Vita-sensei, but let's see if we can't give them solid info, first."

Ichigo and Toushiro dropped the argument, and in short order did just what he asked, Toushiro generating their experimental shield, Ichigo generating the 'trigger attack', and the entire contraption detonating in a thunderous blast. Even with a personal shield up directing the blast around him, it set Marcel's ears to ringing and nearly knocked him over. "Christ on a crutch," he muttered, "hell with making it work, it's an attack in itself!"

"Yeah, 'cept now we've gotta get Shiro to Shamal-sensei," Ichigo half-shouted over his own deafness.

"Not this time." There was nothing 'half' about Toushiro's shouted reply. "Built it far enough away I wasn't in the blast this time." He was digging a finger in his ear, "kinda hard to hear over the ringing, though. Bigger workroom next time?"

"The shields are designed to absorb blasts instead of reflecting," Marcel reminded him, "any problems you have are from the initial blast, not reflected sound or energy. A larger workroom wouldn't help. Look, based on what I just saw, you two are out of your minds, and certainly out of my league. Let me know when you're going to be working on this, or when you could be free to, and I'll get in touch with Yussef and... Vita-sensei, I think. I'll ask them to stop in and help."

"You're not going to help?"

Marcel shook his head, "I've got my enough on my hands keeping up with my classwork. I'm also smart enough to admit that none of us are good enough to help you two figure this out. So, I'll talk to Yussef since he's up there with Niranjana and Noriko on the theory, and I'll talk to Vita-sensei, since this seems more her type of trick than Zafira-sensei's or Signum-sensei's. You might also try asking Lotte-sensei in class. We're supposed to be working on shields again later this week. Me, I'm not crazy enough to stick around while you two mess with unstable explosives."

He waved off their continued protests and let himself out of the workroom. Up the stairs and out onto the quad, he strolled for the library, with one surprisingly simple question. _Why they Hell did they ask me?_

------------------------------

Two days later, he was once again frowning thoughtfully at yet another fellow student, this time doing so over the book he had been studying in the library. "You want me to what?"

"Help me work on this idea I've got for a sonic-spell," Mariachi repeated. "Come on, man. You've got the time free, you're better than I am at the theoretical stuff, and with all the rush and panic over our ability to protect ourselves, I need some help."

"Mariachi, I'm not..."

"You're the best of what's available," Mariachi said bluntly, "and I'm not doing this solo. I've already got some time in a workroom scheduled with Vita-sensei, but that's barely an hour a week. I need to work on this more than that. Please?"

Marcel frowned a little harder, annoyed to once again find himself a 'last resort'. But he could understand that, as he was trying to make some progress on his own ideas for self-defense spells, and the time it was taking to get the other guys moving was distracting him from that. "Look," he said after a minute, "we've all got our projects, and we all need help, but none of us have the experience to give it. So here's what I'll do. I'll join you in your first session with Vita-sensei, see what you're trying to do, and figure out if I can do anything to help. If I can't, I'll hook you up with whoever can. Deal?"

Mariachi grinned, "Deal. Thanks, man."

------------------------------

The next afternoon, he very nearly took a swing at Luke when the older boy stopped him on the way to the showers after Lotte's latest class on 'magical self defense'. He was tired, sweaty, and smarting from several places where the cat-woman had sent just enough power through his shields to bruise. Luke grabbed him as the older boy was exiting the bathroom and Marcel was heading in. "Hey, man, you know where Yussef went?"

Marcel snarled and for just a moment thought about decking the older boy. Instead his conscience came out on top, and he just gave an exasperated sigh, "What am I, his secretary? Everyone's either asking me things they should ask him, or asking me where he is!"

"Dunno 'bout the others, mate," Luke drawled, letting go of him, "but I do know you've got a better idea where our would-be-fearless-leader's likely to be."

Marcel frowned at that, not liking something about that statement, but uncertain what, precisely, the 'something' was. "There are less than twenty students in the school, less than thirty people in the entire valley, yet you can't keep track of one guy? What do you need him for, anyway?"

"Wanted to talk to him about an idea for a buster spell I've got. Thought I'd get some expert advice before I go try something that'll blow up in my face."

Marcel sighed again, and shook his head. Yussef had far better things to do with his time than hold everyone's hand. Since Yussef's suggestion made the rounds on the way back from Kyoto, all the guys seemed determined to get Yussef's approval and/or cooperation for every little thing. _God above, if this keeps up, they'll be expecting him to do their lessons for them. I'm seriously considering..._

"Hey, Marcel! You got a minute? I need to talk to Yussef, but he up and disappeared on me after class."

Turning his head slowly down the hall, for a moment he just stared as Allison came striding down it. He felt himself blush, a combination of embarrassment and anger, but she showed no sign of any reaction, just her usual almost-frown. Managing to keep it to a low growl, he ground out, "Last I heard, I am not Yussef's keeper. Now if you both do not mind, I do not care to continue standing in what is apparently a _major highway _wearing just _a_ _towel_!" He ignored the pair and stormed into the bathroom, muttering imprecations under his breath.

It was not until he was back in his room that he calmed down enough to actually think it over. In an unpleasant way, it did make sense. Of all his classmates, he probably knew Yussef best short of Noriko and Laura, and those two were too busy on whatever project the three of them were working on to be easy for anyone else to get a hold of. He, on the other hand, had gotten along well with the Arab from the first day, having at least known his language before they started, and having been a product of the same style of education. So he had spent more time in Yussef's company than the others, and they had noticed, which in their collective minds, made Marcel the easiest way to locate Yussef. Combine that with Yussef's grades, especially in the magic courses, and the fact that he was almost as easy to approach as Noriko – at least, he was for the boys – and it was no surprise that everyone was looking for him, and using Marcel to simplify the search.

"Damn it," He muttered, "I _am _his bloody secretary. I wonder if I can talk him into a salary, or something. Maybe kick-backs for locating him. Speaking of which..." shaping the communication spell was a matter of thought more than action, now, and he soon set it up. "Allina? Got a minute?"

A moment later she replied, "Yeah, sure, what's up french-fry?"

"First, don't ever call me that again. Second, I need a hack of one of the school PDAs, can you help?"

There was a moment's surprise, before she replied in an utterly shocked tone, "Marcel! I am shocked and appalled! You want innocent honest me to forcibly access one of the PDAs Hayate-sensei handed out to be our personal books, note pads and private journals, and then share that access with you? Just what sort of girl do you think I am?"

Marcel chuckled at the fake-insulted tone, "the sort that likes to break into computer systems just to see if she can."

Still sounding insulted, she snapped back, "Hey! I resemble that!"

"So, can you do it?"

"What PDA and what's in it for me?"

"Yussef's, I need to have continuous access to the calendar he uses," Marcel explained, "and what do you want?"

"To pick your brain for a couple hours on the communications spell. You're faster at it than I am, and you've figured out the twist that lets other people hear the receiver's end, haven't you?"

"Deal," Marcel told her, "I'll be in the library in a few minutes, you there?"

"Yup, main floor. 'Jana-chan kicked me out of her room again, says I'm not allowed to see what she's working on. I think she's afraid I'll steal it, or something."

"Why don't you?"

There was a few seconds of silence, then a slightly confused, "well, I can't do that to 'Jana-chan. It wouldn't be fair. Or something like that."

"I'll see you in a few minutes," he said, laughing softly as he cut the spell. Allina's aggressively schizophrenic morals were just too funny.

------------------------------

"Hey, Marcel, you okay? You've been looking kind of frazzled lately."

Looking up from his book, Macel started to glare, then realized who he was glaring at, and shook his head a little, "Sorry, Yussef. Yeah, I'm fine, just a little tired. The usual... too much to do, not enough time to do it, and everyone seems to think my time is theirs for the asking."

Yussef gave a sympathetic chuckle, "Yeah, I know what you mean. I think the only time I have to myself these days is after lights-out."

"At least you get to disappear with Laura and Noriko," Marcel countered sourly, "and when you tell someone to get lost, they usually do. Me, they seem to think it's a challenge."

"Probably the fact that you haven't hit anyone yet," Yussef commented. "A little violence goes a long way. Just look at Laura, no one asks her for much time."

"That's because Laura's certifiable."

"This is true." Yussef agreed, then waved a hand and shook his head, changing the subject. "Actually, I'm afraid I'm one of those people thinking to make use of your time."

Marcel shrugged, "Sure, what's up?"

Yussef blinked at him for a second, then frowned slightly. "You do realize that I just said I'm going to do what you were just complaining about everyone else doing?"

"Yup. I stand by my previous question."

Yussef frowned at him for another moment, then shrugged it off. "Okay then, I was wondering if I could make use of your brain for an hour or so this afternoon. All the guys, and a couple of the girls, have been getting me to help with shields, busters, whatever."

"I'm aware," Marcel groaned, rolling his eyes, "God am I ever aware. They keep asking _me_ where to find you."

"Don't think I haven't noticed how you keep miss... _re_-directing them," Yussef answered with a grin. "I appreciate that, by the way. If you hadn't kept them off my back, someone would've walked in on Noriko, the ditz and I, and that would have been... interesting."

Marcel chuckled a little, and shook a finger at him, "see, it's statements like that which have everyone convinced that you're pursuing Laura." Yussef blinked, then slumped and glared a little, but Marcel just started counting off points, "you're always disappearing with those two, you've demonstrated a sort of hands-off big-brother attitude towards Noriko, Laura's the only person on campus you refuse to address by name, the two of you get in fights just by looking at each other, yet you've spent more time in her company the past month than anyone else's. Just admit it, Yussef, everything points to you liking her."

"I do not 'like' the ditz," Yussef growled, "I never have, never will, and I'm seriously tired of everyone saying that."

"And yet everything you do contradicts what you say... in a twisted, melodramatic sort of way." Marcel shook his head and made a calming gesture, "look, man, I'm not saying you do like her, 'cause I know you better than that, so don't go glaring at me. I know you well enough to understand that you're naively honest. But you have to admit that, whatever you say, it looks like you're interested in her. Besides, there aren't enough of us here to really cloud up the gossip circles, and I think Noriko might be pushing that particular rumor just to watch the two of you squirm. But, you wanted to talk business, so let's talk business."

Yussef stared at him for a few seconds longer, then shrugged and dropped the subject. "All the ideas everyone's pursuing... they're all well and good, as far as they go. But they're just spells. They're like knowing how to pull the trigger on a gun. That doesn't mean you know how to use it to protect yourself, or how to use it to protect anyone else."

Marcel nodded, "Yeah, true, but you've got to learn how to pull the trigger first, before you can learn the rest of it."

"But I don't think we have time. Look, we started here at the start of September, and at the end of October, barely two months, whoever these jokers are had managed to set up a kidnapping attempt – a _good _kidnapping attempt. If it wasn't for that Takashi guy's surprising them, we'd've probably never found the ditz. The speed of that tells me they're moving fast, faster than we are. We have to be able to protect ourselves, but I really think only the ditz and I, and maybe Noriko and Allison, are really capable of it."

Marcel frowned at that, noticing the implied insult, "Hey, I'm no fighter like you, but I can take care of myself. I have played football for years, you know, even if I'm not obsessive about it like Noah and Toushiro."

Yussef shook his head, "No, you're not, Marcel, and I'm not being insulting. It's not a matter of skill, or toughness, but of mindset. I've thought about this, Marcel, all my life. Arabia's a dangerous place at the best of times, even with bodyguards, and I've had to think about protecting myself before. The same is generally true for Noriko, though I'm not sure how much. Allison's a street punk, beneath that civilized veneer, and she's been in fights before. The ditz may be an air-head, but even I'll admit she's a good martial artist, which means she's given some thought to fighting, even if she does seem to regard it as a sort of game. No one else here has any sort of history of experience with or planning response to violence."

"Okay, I can see what you're saying," Marcel admitted, though he really wanted to argue the point. Just because he was neither of noble descent nor a chop-sockey fanatic did not mean he had never thought about fighting. But getting kidnapped? Fighting with others? He could admit, privately, to having no idea how to go about protecting himself from such things. "So, what are you thinking? Lectures, notes, attacking classmates at random in ninja-drag?"

Yussef chuckled at that, but shook his head. "No, more of a practical exercise. Not even so much teaching everyone to be paranoid, but... getting us used to working together, and getting us used to thinking fast. Remember what Takamichi-sensei said when she was here? The most precious resource you have in battle is time to think. If you're panicking over being under fire, you aren't thinking. If you're worried about shields and attacks and where everyone else is, you aren't thinking. _I_ think I can get you guys used to being under fire, and used to working as a group, enough that you'll hold it together well enough that we can protect each other until Zafira-sensei and the rest can reach us."

"A group study project would work better," Marcel countered thoughtfully, "something drawn out over a long time. Even if we're not all as bad as you think, it's going to take time to get everyone into the groove."

"I was thinking that, too," Yussef admitted, leaning forward and gesturing with his hands as he began relating what he had already thought of.

Marcel leaned in a little as well, just enough to indicate his attention, but just listened, not offering any thoughts. Just from what Yussef was telling him, he soon had an idea of what his friend needed to talk over, and what he just needed to say to someone else. Marcel was a little surprised, at first, at the fact that he was not in the least annoyed by the interruption of his own studying. But as Yussef continued to expound upon his idea and argue with himself, Marcel realized that he was not annoyed because, at first subconsciously, he realized he was being given quite an honor – Yussef's unquestioning trust and an unstated request for aid.

------------------------------

"Right, welcome back gentleman. Now that you're all here, it's fun day," Yussef announced once Marcel closed the door behind Ichigo. "I know we just got back from vacation, and you were probably expecting another session or two of exercises, but I think I'd like to find out how much all of you have forgotten. So, pairings for today are... Marcel and Luke , Toushiro and Mariachi, Ichigo and Noah. First job of the day is Capture the Flag."

Yussef announced it, but Zafira was the one who manipulated the room's controls. As they watched, the floor and walls glowed, and opaque white shields began rising from the flat surfaces. They quickly grew and altered, forming a series of random structures, scattering buildings, ledges, angled walls and random spires throughout the massive chamber. Towards the center of the chamber, a single spire of red appeared.

Yussef reached into a pocket, and pulled out a foot or so length of red cloth. "As usual, this here's the flag. Marcel and Luke, Toushiro and Mariachi, you're up. I'm thinking of a number."

The 'number game' was their usual alternative to flipping a coin – since the first time they tried that degenerated into a (mostly joking) argument over which coin to use – was simple enough. Yussef picked a number between one and ten, told it to Zulfiqar, and one member from each team took one guess. Whoever got closest to Yussef's number won. In the case of 'capture the flag', the victor got to chose which of the two starting points to use.

"Eight," Mariachi said.

"Five," Marcel countered, "we'll take the far entrance."

"Dude," Toushiro complained, "at least wait to find out if you won."

Yussef coughed slightly to get their attention, and held out Zulfiqar. Floating in the blue crystal was a roman numeral, III. "Marcel, Luke, get hiking." He gestured to his right, where a single straight path remained through the maze, running along the side wall to the far end of the chamber.

As the two of them trotted down the path at a light job, Luke asked, "So, any particular reason you wanted the far entrance?"

Marcel grinned a little, "Recon. Yussef's rules say we can't fly to the entrance, and have to _follow _the path. He never said anything about staying _in _it."

"That's cheating," Luke countered, but was also grinning.

"What are the two rules of warfare, according to our fearless leader?"

"Don't remember him ever mentioning them," Luke said.

"The first rule is, don't lose. The second rule... anything that isn't expressly forbidden is allowed." Marcel stopped at a conveniently low point in the neighboring obstructions, and leaped, catching the edge of the solid shield. He struggled to pull himself up, then felt pressure on his dangling feet. Luke was pushing his feet, giving him something to stand on. Marcel nodded, then hauled himself the rest of the way up. He looked over the field, then back down to Luke. "Keep going. If you find a spot to get up, take it, but don't wait for me. I'll follow along up here, get an eye for the terrain."

The field was its usual chaotic mess, and Marcel knew it would change even as they crossed it once the exercise officially began. Yussef had introduced that wrinkle at their second 'field trials' session, and it had proven a vexing challenge. Even so, the terrain would not vary much, and the long hike over the edge of the artificial terrain gave him a good idea of where the bad stretches were, and what the terrain around the flag would be like.

Once he and Luke reached the far entrance, he told Yussef via the communications spell, and the game was on. He and Luke moved fast, the taller Australian a few steps behind. Both of them kept their magic ready, the power gathered and primed but only barely formed, Marcel into a shield, Luke into a buster. In the lead, Marcel did his best to remember what he had seen of the terrain, even as it began shifting, and find the fastest path to the center of the field.

They reached the center area first, and Marcel could actually see the spire with the flag, when he decided to try and get sneaky. "Let's see if we can't eliminate a little competition," he told Luke.

"Mariachi and Toushiro making you nervous?"

Marcel shook his head, "nope, but why leave a full pair to come after us, when we should be able to cut the numbers down?"

"Ambush when they come out after the flag?"

"Yeah," Marcel agreed, "double-tap. If the one we miss backs off, we grab the flag and bolt. If not, we can double-team him."

Sure enough, moments later, Toushiro and Mariachi both appeared behind one sliced-off pyramid of an obstacle. They were too close together, and part of Marcel wanted to yell at them for it, but he just crouched lower and tried to keep them from noticing. After a brief conversation, Mariachi settled back, leaving just his eyes visible, but Toushiro moved in closer to the flag. Marcel dropped completely behind the block he was using for cover, and glanced back to find Luke already down.

Luke jerked his chin towards the spire, "Can you still see him?"

Marcel shook his head, "not from here. Move to the other side of the block. When he gets half way to the flag, we'll both strike."

"Gotcha mate. Stay frosty."

Marcel shifted closer to the corner of the block, and Toushiro came into view again, just barely, as a black head of hair bobbing and weaving through the terrain. Marcel crouched a little lower, just to make sure he would not be seen. Not a minute later, the Japanese boy took to the air, flying as fast as any of them could manage without a device, arm out-stretched. It was the usual tactic in 'capture the flag' missions, get as close as possible to the flag on the ground, then fly to it fast. Toushiro's personal variation, that no one else had yet had the gumption (or lack of survival instinct) to try was to then simply _stop _flying, and plummet to the ground, timing a resumed flight to absorb the impact. The basic tactic usually worked fairly well... if whoever was on backup was good at ranged work, or had the other team's location pegged for a shield.

This time, Marcel and Luke struck simultaneously, throwing under-powered busters at the airborne Toushiro. He saw them coming, but nowhere near soon enough to do more than yell something incoherent but definitely angry. Then the two bolts hit him, shimmering against the shield Mariachi was maintaining, and the shrill sound of a whistle sounded a moment before Toushiro was ringed with blue light.

"That's a kill," Yussef's amplified voice rang through the workroom, "Toushiro, fall back."

Still airborne, Toushiro obeyed, but not before shooting Marcel a dirty look and rude gesture. Marcel shrugged back eloquently while grinning, then turned his attention to Mariachi. He leaned forward, to find Luke doing the same. Luke gestured to their right, then pointed at Marcel's left and made a sweeping gesture. Marcel thought it over, debating splitting up, then nodded, and began working his way through the terrain to his left. Even if Mariachi managed to get one of them, he would have to expose himself to do it, which would let the other get Mariachi.

Marcel made good time, despite the fact that the terrain now bore no resemblance to what he had seen in his scouting. He had to bolt at one point when the wall he was behind simply faded away, and left him standing in an open square for a moment, but he was fairly confident he knew where Mariachi was and that the reverse was not true, when he finally reached the far side of the spire. It took just a glance to confirm where Mariachi was, though that also involved a rapid dodge into cover as a weak buster came his way. Shaping the communications spell, he asked, "Luke, you ready?"

"Waitin' on you, mate," was the near-immediate response.

"On three."

Luke chuckled, and asked, "That one-two-three and go, or one-two and go?"

Marcel frowned in confusion for a moment, then shook it off, "When I say three, we go. One..."

The countdown finished, and he dove out of cover, sending a pair of rapid busters into Mariachi's hiding place as Luke did the same, covering each other's advance... only to see Mariachi's answering shots flash out from behind one obstacle, then hear Luke curse rather colorfully as those shots went home.

"That's a kill," Yussef called out again, "Luke, head for the doors, please."

Marcel dove into cover before Yussef even finished speaking, unwilling to stay so exposed when the odds had just shifted so badly. Mariachi had been supposed to expose himself to get one of them, but apparently his hiding spot was better than Marcel thought. _I'll work around behind him,_ Marcel decided, _see if I can't surprise him._

He was relatively certain Mariachi would not leave his current position, but would sit and wait, planning to ambush him when he moved. The Mexican was a defensive thinker, preferring to sit in place and let the opponent come to him. So Marcel moved to oblige, working his way closer while circling to put Mariachi between him and the spire. If Mariachi made any move towards the flag, Marcel would have plenty of time to see him and attack.

In the end, he was proven quite right. Mariachi had hunkered down where he was, and was quite plainly waiting for him. When Marcel finally broke cover to attack, though, Mariachi exposed himself just enough to reply in kind, one arm and about half his face visible alongside one force-field block. Marcel knew it before their first busters passed, but that position gave Mariachi all the edge he needed. Marcel's buster detonated against the block, mere centimeters from Mariachi's face, but Mariachi's slammed into Marcel's own hastily-raised shield, and Yussef called out one last time, "that's a kill! Marcel, sorry man, but you're dead. If you would both please rejoin us at the entrance, we'll go over everything."

Mariachi came up alongside as Marcel started back for the entrance. "Sorry, man," Mariachi muttered, "thought you had me when you got Toushiro, but..."

Marcel shook his head, "Don't worry about it, so did I. Ten to one, Yussef says I got cocky, though. Shouldn't have split up with Luke to pincer you, we should have both moved in one direction."

"Maybe," Mariachi agreed, "but I wasn't exactly in a good spot, there. Luck of the draw, I guess."

"Still annoying," Marcel muttered, "I cheated like Hell, and still lost!"

------------------------------

Going in, Marcel was actually impressed with himself, with how calm and collected he managed to appear. In the teleport bay, even as they took to the air to give Yussef space to open them a passage, he managed to maintain the facade of calm, collected imperturbability that seemed to reassure the others. Despite that calm, he could feel his heart hammering in his chest, and it felt like it was in his throat. He was surprised his hands weren't shaking.

"Stay together everyone," Yussef reminded them, then dove into the smoking hole he had left in the building's roof.

"Pair up," Marcel added, shifting over to float closer to Juliet, pushing his worries down to focus on what he had to do, "Ichigo, Natalia, rear guard. Luke, Megan, don't crowd Yussef so much, give him room. Toushiro, stay close to Luke and Megan."

The fact that he gave those orders was not so surprising, part of his mind noted, as the fact that they were obeyed so readily. Ichigo and Natalia hung back as they followed Yussef into the opening, and Luke and Megan, assigned previously to be right behind Yussef, slowed up a little. It compressed their group, left the majority of them an easier target for an area-strike, but would also make it easier for each of them to cover one another.

Marcel and Juliet were the second pair through, right behind Toushiro, and he saw Yussef's sudden spin a moment before a Bulwark sprang into being along one wall of the shaft. A moment later, the wall exploded at Yussef's level, the debris and residual energies hammering the Bulwark before rebounding through the gap, or plummeting to the bottom.

Yussef stared into the opening for a second, then called up, "Marcel, keep them moving. Get Mariachi and get out."

"Roger that," he answered, and waved the others forward. He stopped next to Yussef, however, and joined his friend in studying the two mages in the room beyond the blasted opening. Juliet settled in as well, a little lower, and a gesture sent Ichigo and Natalia downwards as well. "You certain you can handle them?"

Yussef nodded, "Mostly, yeah. They're the strongest ones I can sense down this low, so I think they're the main guard force. I'll keep them busy, you just get Mariachi."

Marcel did not like the sound of that, did not like splitting up, but orders were orders, and with Zulfiqar's aide, he did not really doubt Yussef's ability to handle these two enemies. It was more the others' ability to get to Mariachi that Marcel doubted. Still, all he said was, "Stay frosty, Yussef."

"You too, man. See you on the way out."

They plummeted down the shaft, until Toushiro, the most sensitive of the seven of them, said they were at the same level as Mariachi. He, Luke and Juliet teamed up to sear the door open, while the others shielded them. When the blast cleared, it revealed a short hall leading to a lounge of some sort. "Hold at the lounge," Marcel ordered, "same marching order."

Luke and Megan headed down the passage, Megan shifting in mid-step from human to wolf. The sight of that gave Marcel pause, but he shook it off and took up position behind them, the others forming up behind him. They moved cautiously down the hall, and Marcel paused at both doors to melt the knobs into useless junk. It would not stop someone determined to get in or out, but would slow them down.

The lounge itself was nicely appointed, comfortable chairs and plants everywhere, arranged around small tables. Marcel looked them over, verifying that there was no place for anyone to hide. That was confirmed a moment later as Megan completed a circuit of the room, and shook her head at him. There were two corridors leading of the chamber, and Toushiro pointed at one. "He's down there, not far. Thing is, there are more mages," he shifted his pointing hand to the other corridor, "down there."

Marcel considered that for a while, then asked, "Megan, think you'll be able to find Mariachi?" The gray wolf looked at him, then took a few experimental sniffs of the floor, nodding. "Take Luke, go get him. If you run in to trouble, fall back on us." As the two of them moved down the hall at a trot, Marcel turned to the other corridor. "Everyone, let's get ourselves a barricade. Pile all the tables and furniture in an arc, put the plants in front of it."

The first rush, when it arrived several minutes later, was uncoordinated, a group of mages apparently headed elsewhere, carrying a variety of documents and hardware. Marcel did not bother giving any orders, simply opened fire when it was apparent the approaching people hesitated a few dozen meters down the hall. His own buster was shortly followed by busters from the others, all aimed high to strike the ceiling. It had the desired effect, as the mages fled down the hall.

"Next one won't be that easy," Toushiro commented from where he was kneeling next to Marcel. "He's a strong one."

"Too strong?" Marcel did not like the sound of that, and his original nerves returned full force. The fact that, faintly, he could feel Yussef's magic a few levels above them, did not help. Two mages should not have held him up this long

Toushiro shrugged, "Dunno. I'm not really that much better than you are, Marcel. But he's strong, stronger than he should be. Wish we'd gotten that reactive shield working."

Marcel turned that over in his mind, thinking furiously as he debated. If he was 'stronger than he should be', that meant he had too much power available for any of them to stand against him. Combined, maybe, but even that would be risky. The girls were not used to working together like the boys were, and even the boys were only used to working in pairs. A straight-up fight would not solve this dilemma, they – _he_ – would have to use cunning and intelligence, which was going to be rather difficult given the limited options he had. "Juliet, Toushiro," he said, "you two are our best fighters right now. When he comes down the hall, tag-team him. The rest of us will try to get his attention and keep him busy." 

"I'm not a ranged fighter," Juliet countered, "I can do damage up close, yeah, but not from behind someone else's shields."

Marcel cursed under his breath, as the approaching mage became visible in the hall, conspicuously _floating _down the middle of it, instead of walking. _How can we get her close, without getting her killed?_ "Shields," he ordered, and the others complied, building a wall of overlapping shields just as the approaching mage fired a buster at them. The dark yellow burst slammed into their shields with more force than they were used to, but their combined efforts deflected it.

"Damn, I wish Noah was here," Toushiro muttered, "He's a little out of my range, will he come closer?"

"He's still drifting closer," Marcel noted, "Let him get as close as we can. Juliet, you see an opening, you take it, but don't get caught out there. Ichigo, Natalia, keep an eye on her, cover her when she bolts."

The man that came floating down the hall was impressive. He was tall, obviously physically strong, and had the sort of long, regular features that just screamed 'nobility'. Of course, he was also crackling with power, wrapped in a massive yellow-hued shield, and giving them a superior sneer that twisted those 'noble' features into plain old 'ugly'.

"A proud one," Marcel muttered, "arrogant and confident. Yussef without the self-knowledge."

"Breakable," Natalia muttered.

"To be hoped," Marcel agreed, then ran out of time for further thought.

Marcel had expected the Circle mage to test their defenses a few more times, to engage in a ranged fight. Instead, the man charged their position in a full rush. He hit the improvised barricade of furniture without slowing, and only youthful reactions kept any of the students from getting caught in the resultant explosion of debris. Marcel dove to his left, spotted Toushiro and Juliet with him, but realized that left Natalia and Ichigo on the far side of the hostile.

The mage hesitated just long enough for the tumbling furniture to settle, long enough for the three boys to get their shields up again, then lunged at Marcel. His massive overhead punch shattered Marcel's shield, but expended most of its energy to do that, and slammed to a halt against one Toushiro interposed at the last second. The man just smirked a little, "Stupid kids. Think you can match me with childish tricks? I bet you're relying on some 'power of friendship' crap to save you, aren't you? Or do you think I'm going to play nice and ask you to be good kids? Tche, you're all corrupt, all heretics. Orders are capture if it's possible, but I don't think it'll _be_ possible with you, now will it?"

Marcel just grunted, forming a new shield behind Toushiro's, then growled, "anytime, Juliet."

"Little busy," she shot back.

Marcel risked a glance over, saw her struggling against a binding, her own shield between the binding and herself, and for his troubles grunted in surprise and almost lost his shield as the mage finally broke through Toushiro's and hit his. He snarled silently, but the mage just chuckled, "Yeah, you see it now, don't you, boy?"

"Excuse me," Natalia drawled in an aggravatingly superior tone, "but _you_ apparently don't see."

Marcel did not risk looking away again, but the mage did, and his sneer faded into a look of confusion. The mage backed off, and Marcel took advantage of his distraction to roll backwards, opening the range and planting himself right next to Toushiro in a crouch. He brought his shield back up, and only then looked around.

Natalia was standing in the open, Ichigo crouched behind a shattered couch right next to her, buster spell at the ready. Natalia herself, however, was matching the mage sneer for sneer, and the tattoo under her left eye was glowing a sickly green color. Even worse, there was a hazy figure floating in the air between her and the mage, roughly humanoid, hunched over like a bear, or wrestler. "You really should pay more attention to the dangerous ones," Natalia commented, "or you're liable to wind up in a lot of pain." The mage just snorted, and fired a buster. It hit the hazy gray figure, and dissipated in a massive flash of light. Natalia laughed, a high waterfall sound, "silly boy, you can't harm the dead like that. Of course, you'll be on the other side of that divide yourself, by New Years."

Two more busters, and it became apparent that such attacks were failing. Marcel noticed that the energy was still there, scorching the ceiling and floor, as well as the already-ruined furniture, but it was not going near Natalia. From the snarling quality on the mage's face, he didn't notice. Instead, he lunged forward, opting for a physical attack, letting himself get distracted.

Marcel brought up both hands, charging a Buster Cannon, only to watch a dark streak explode out of a corner. He managed to hold onto his spell instead of launching it, as Juliet slammed into the mage's back in a flying tackle. She bounced off, but so did he, stumbling in the air, shields flickering. Before he could recover, she bounced on one foot, then leaped and spun, heel connecting with his neck in a rough reverse-round-house. His personal shields absorbed the blow, but as Juliet fell away Toushiro, Ichigo, and Marcel nailed him with their buster spells.

The mage grunted in pain and fell to the floor, staggering but still mostly functional, and Marcel felt him gathering in energy again. Juliet closed the distance, cutting off any more ranged spells, and brought joined fists down on the back of his head. That slammed him fully to the floor, and for a second, Marcel thought he was out, but he shifted upwards, growling and muttering. Juliet leaned back from that, swinging her right foot so high Marcel thought she was going to dislocate her hip, and slammed it down into the mage's back, just at shoulder-height, making him spasm and go still.

Marcel managed to reach her before she could repeat the kick, grabbing her knee and shouting, "Juliet! That's enough!" She glared at him with wild eyes for a second, and he thought she might take a swing at him, but she calmed down, face relaxing, and nodded. "We don't need to kill anyone," Marcel told her, letting her leg go.

"Incoming," Toushiro warned, "looks like regulars, though."

"Let's get this barricade back together," Marcel ordered, "Juliet, see if you can secure tall, dark, and stupid."

They were half ready, and Toushiro was actually throwing busters down the hall, when Marcel heard something else. It took him only a second to identify it, though he was unfamiliar with the tune, and he actually chuckled. "I can't believe that flaming idiot's playing guitar in the middle of a hostage-rescue," he muttered. Toushiro and Ichigo joined in his laughter, though Juliet just frowned and Natalia looked blankly between them. Marcel shook off the amusement, "get ready to fall back. Toushiro, let's you and I convince these bastards to keep their heads down."

Mariachi arrived, escorted by Luke and Megan, and they fell back to the lift shaft in good order. As they were flying up it, Toushiro and Marcel being carried by Juliet and Ichigo to keep their shields up, Marcel asked, "What was that spell you used to scare the bad-guy, Natalia? Looked pretty effective for an illusion."

"It was my brother," Natalia replied, "his spirit protects me."

"It's a semi-solid hologram," Ichigo said, in a tone normally reserved for restating endlessly repeated facts, "it works kinda like Noriko's shields, lotsa little barriers that dissipate whatever's passing through. It animates according to her will, and she likes to think of it as her brother."

"Because it _is_ my brother," Natalia insisted calmly, "Sasha will always protect me."

Marcel looked at her a moment, more than a little worried, then shook it off to talk with Shamal later, once the heat was off. Also, the appearance of the opening Yussef had used distracted him, and he smiled in relief as his friend came into view. He had Ichigo drop him on the ledge, and dropped his shield in favor of the communications spell, "We got him, boss. What say we take a stroll on out of here and go see if Zafira-sensei and Lotte-sensei are done playing upstairs?"

------------------------------

Marcel watched the last of the glow of Signum-sensei's teleport faded from the overlook, and felt himself relaxing just a little. There had never been any question of his parents pulling him out of the school, he had just sat them down, explained what was likely to happen here and what was likely to happen to him at home, and informed them he was staying. They had been concerned, but his parents had always prided themselves on how rational and logical they were, and he had taken advantage of that without a second thought. He had been worried about his classmates, though, and now that danger seemed to be past, even if Laura was gone for a while.

He was distracted from that when Yussef stepped up next to him, "Marcel, you got a second?"

"Sure, boss. What's up?"

Yussef looked at him for a second, then shifted back a little, and stuck out his hand. "Thank you."

Marcel blinked at him, confused about what he was talking about, but took Yussef's wrist in his hand, and returned the gesture. "You're welcome, but what for?"

Yussef chuckled a little, then explained, "For getting everyone out in one piece. I noticed you and the guys keep calling me 'boss', and I guess it makes sense. The whole training sessions thing was my idea, after all. But you're the one that kept everyone together in that cave. I saw it in class, when you kept interpreting missions, getting the guys to follow you, keeping them in line when they got a little crazy, and I know you did the same thing in New Delhi. Thank you, for that. You've probably had as much to do with our success as I did."

Marcel shrugged, and turned back to the woods, more embarrassed than anything. "Just what you needed done," he muttered, "nothing big."

"Sure that's all it was," Yussef agreed, "that's all I did. But, like Zafira-sensei's pointed out to me, it's a rare and valuable combination of traits, to both be able to see what needs to be done, and to do it. I just wanted to let you know I recognize it in you, and I appreciate it. So... thanks."

Marcel looked back at him again, seeing the strong profile set in a serious look, and smiled a little crookedly. "Not a problem, boss. Anything you need, I'm your man."

Yussef smiled as well, but shook his head, "Nah, Marcel. The guys, they're my men. You... you're my right hand."

------------------------------

Author's Note: Right, sorry for the long lapse, but I had no ideas – for Side Stories, at least. Most of my creative energies since "The Easier Path" were directed towards Academy Blues itself. I started this right about halfway through writing AB chapter 29 (Full Circle), along with another one focusing on Allison. I've also had a silly idea for yet another Side Story, about the terrible-trio, so hopefully those'll be ready relatively soon. In light of how long it's been, however, I should remind you that since I posted the last chapter, I lost all my e-mails, including most of the reviews of last chapter (happened back in August or September, not recently). If you reviewed by PM, my apologies for not replying. For 'official' reviews, I've got them off FFN direct, and replies are below.

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CrimsonDX: Glad you liked last chapter, grim as it was. While you're right that constantly seeing how those around her will die is going to be difficult to deal with, I honestly think Natalia was (as evinced by her comments above) already off her rocker. Not total Ax-Crazy, mind you, but not stable either. I don't think Natalia's unable to do anything about what she sees, though – I've never been a fan of 'inescapable destiny' – death is inevitable, but the timing and manner are always up for debate. She can probably take precautions, give warnings, and so forth, once she gets a handle on the visions.

TheWhiteMonk: Arguably, Natalia was no more stupid than Laura, Noriko or Yussef, she just hit a harder wall. On the other hand, she did choose to hit that wall, where the trio's mistake was one of poor planning. Hayate's response was cruel, but remember... Natalia had already broken her trust once (reading the restricted book in the first place), then continue to violate it with prescribed studies. I was trying to bring it across as 'the lesson fitting the student', along with 'harsh enough to last'. Natalia's supposed to be rather stubborn and strong-willed (not the same thing!). Personally, I would also prefer not to be 'maintained' as Natalia's brother is, but it's the sort of personal choice that's between the victim and their family.

seaotter: 'Al Hazred' is the spelling I've found most commonly used in the Nanoha series. Natalia's reasons/motivations were 'good' ones, yes, but there are any number of safer, easier and more reliable methods of saying goodbye than attempting to bridge beyond death using magic you know to be hideously dangerous. Natalia's the class' 'dangerous obsessive', but yes she did pay a terrible price for that, and has mostly learned better. As for who wears glasses... no one, at the moment, which is, now that I think about it, kinda odd, since I'm stuck with them myself.

Baughn: My apologies for upsetting you, wasn't my intent. It was simply the most tragic situation I could think of – major trauma with no resolution and only bad options. I'm afraid that I do think death is unconquerable, and inevitable – entropy always wins. Even great ideas change, fade, and die. On the other hand, death always brings about new life, even if it's not necessarily the same as that which died. The problem with immortality (especially in something like human beings who are not in any way shape or form designed for longevity) is that it would inevitably lead to stagnation. Death is not glorious, or wonderful, but it is part of life and change, the end of the race that makes the race worth running. And that's as philosophical as I'm prepared to be, sorry.

Kell Shock: I'm not sure if Natalia's eye would qualify as a standard 'Shinigami's Eye', since she only sees roughly when a death will occur, cannot see ghosts or spirits, and also sees the lives which will spring from who she's looking at, but it's close, yes. As far as totting her brother's soul around, I'm afraid Ichigo's explanation above is the correct one for the purposes of this series. The Bureau would be interested, but only peripherally – they've seen the like before, have all the statistics they want, and unless Natalia specifically does something to trigger the Bureau's crisis mode, they'll probably just make chastising noises and decline any future applications from her. It was a harsh lesson, but as I mentioned to TheWhiteMonk, Natalia had already been given one chance at a kinder lesson, and knowingly ignored it.

Skyfall v2.0: I'm glad you enjoyed the prior chapters, hope this one lives up to them. I don't think Natalia's going to be too interested in Fate, for two reasons. The first is Fate herself, who's very reserved and self-contained to begin with, and has got to be intimidating to someone just learning magic, at least under 'normal' circumstances (the aftermath of Operation Nimrod not-with-standing). Second, Precia's notebook, for all she learned from it, lead directly to Natalia's current curse. Negative associations would probably be enough to keep Natalia from asking Fate about it, especially since her story is by this time generally known to the students (through the same off-screen lessons that told them about Nanoha).


	7. 07 The Rising of the Moon

**The Rising of the Moon**

An Academy Blues Side Story

By Daishi Prime

Setting Note: This is set after the main Academy Blues story, during the subsequent Summer Break. I recommend reading Chapter 31 of Academy Blues, for completeness before reading this, but there should be any terrible spoilers herein.

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Allison stepped out of the car and stretched hard, reveling in the pressure of sun and wind on her skin, and especially in the heat that, dry or not, was almost oppressive. When she dropped her arms back to her sides, she finally looked around. The dry dusty area, already baking under the June sun, was beautiful, rugged and demanding, a harsh land that she could practically feel welcoming her home.

"Don't go wandering," her mother reminded her, closing both car doors, "your grandparents are expecting us."

"I'm not going anywhere, Mom," Allison reassured her, "just remembering why I love coming out here."

"'Cause you're crazy," her younger brother Patrick muttered, sulking on the far side of the car. Where she was already enjoying herself, he was quite plainly unhappy to be here. "Nothing out here but dust and dirt and nasty people."

Their father reached back casually and swatted him on the head – not hard, but enough to get his attention. "Just because you'd rather be playing videogames doesn't give you an excuse to be rude. Stop sulking and help me with the cooler."

Patrick still sulked, but he did help get the cooler out of the back, and Allison had to smile. She had originally offered to carry it, but Patrick had been an annoying brat all morning, and as part of teaching him not to be, her parents were making him do all the hard work. Allison just grabbed the stack of foil-covered plates that had been netted down next to the cooler, and followed her mother up the steps.

Her grandparents were waiting on the porch, and she met their smiles with one of her own. Part of her always thought they were kind of corny, living in a small house on the outskirts of the city, her grandmother still insisted on wearing old-fashioned blouses and skirts when she was not wearing an outright dress, and her grandfather was almost as bad. They were both weathered and worn, faces and hands deeply marked by lifetimes in the Navajo desert, but she always remembered them smiling, despite the fact that they were probably more strict than her parents.

"Hey, Gramma, Gramps," she called as her mother hugged both of them, "survived another winter, huh?"

"That's no way to speak to your grandparents," Gramps replied, but he was grinning at her, and pulled her into a one-armed hug. "Welcome home, Mosi."

"Thanks, Gramps."

It took some shuffling to get everyone inside, then through the house to the back yard, a wide stretch of unfenced grass and gravel that let out at the edge of a short cliff, the crumbling stone marked with a series of posts rather than an actual fence. It was there that Allison ran into trouble of a most unwelcome nature. She paused on the deck, glaring slightly, before grinding out, "Hello, _Rocky_."

The man standing by the grill, nearly as weathered as her grandparents but significantly younger, turned from a somewhat distant greeting of her mother and glared right back, "Ally. I see that foreign camp hasn't taught you how to behave, yet."

Allison's mother put a hand on his arm, "Please, Tse, not today. She just got home."

Tse sniffed once and shook his head, "Yeah, sure, she just got home. No excuse for her to be rude, Nascha."

"Like you know how to behave," Allison half-snarled. She knew as she said it that her parents would not stand for that, but her uncle never failed to push her buttons just by showing up.

Sure enough, she got a swat on the head of her own from her father, walking past still carrying the back handle of the cooler. "Watch it, Allison," he ordered, "you're old enough to know better."

She was expecting more, specifically some sort of order to apologize, and found herself mentally stumbling when no such order was forthcoming. Instead, her parents continued into the back yard to the wood and stone table set up a few meters from the native-stone grill. Her recalcitrant glare faded into a confused look, then an annoyed one and she opened her mouth to ask what was going on.

A hand on her shoulder stopped her, and she glanced sideways to find Gramma there. "Don't ask," Gramma asked softly, "it doesn't concern you yet, and you don't want to be caught in the middle. Now come one, this is supposed to be a welcome home party, not a cat-fight."

Allison nodded silently, let it drop, and actually managed to enjoy herself, mostly by completely ignoring her uncle. She had no idea how her mother or, especially, her _father _managed to be civil to the man, given his continuous stream of subtle and not-so-subtle insults. But then, her parents had long practice, since Tse had been this way as long as Allison could remember. Judging by his appearance in their wedding pictures – actually, his absolute _lack _of appearance – he always had been. Allison had never learned their patience with him, and had no interest in doing so.

As usual around her, however, things got out of hand. Despite ignoring him, she could not completely tune out Tse's comments, and her temper rose the longer she had to listen to him. Finally, her uncle said something particularly snide about her being more Irish than Navajo, certainly not really any of the latter, and her temper let go with a vengeance.

As he leaned back from muttering the last half-heard insult, she lunged to her feet and slammed one glowing hand onto the table right in front of him. "Shut your ignorant mouth," she snarled, "You wouldn't know a Navajo if one smacked you! I'm half tempted to try, though! You've never been anything but snide and vicious to us, and I'm sick and tired of it! Go away! Leave! Nobody wants you here, and you obviously don't like being here, so just leave!"

Tse just sneered a little wider, "Typical white's response. Don't like what you're hearing, yell and cry and drown it out, rather than admit you're wrong."

The rush of anger and rage had her quivering, and she very nearly followed through on her threat to hit him, despite the semi-controlled charge of magic wrapped around her fist. She raised that fist to right in front of his face, but something made her hesitate. It took her a second to realize it was fear, writ large in his eyes despite his sneer. He was afraid of her, and that cooled her temper enough for her common sense to redirect her response.

"You're an ass, Rocky," she snarled, then continued on over her Mother's and Gramma's outraged exclamations, "a useless, cowardly, weak, pathetic _ass_." In the back of her head, she could hear one of Signum's lectures, _pride is a strength and a weakness, in both you and your enemy. Know your own pride and do not fall victim to it, know your enemy's, and exploit it._ "You think you've got the right to deny me my heritage? What makes you think you have any more right to it than I do, slacker?" She swept her arm out in a long arc, "That's our heritage, you lazy bastard, this harsh beautiful land. It's our inheritance, our heritage, and the proof of both. I can survive out there. Can you? I doubt it! You're just a weak-skinned city-boy with no more idea how to survive in our lands than a newborn babe!"

Sure enough, that got a reaction, and Tse was suddenly in her face, reminding her just how much bigger than her he was, shouting over her parent's and grand-parent's. "How dare you! Shut your mouth, trash! You don't have the right to question me!"

One glowing fist under his jaw shut him up. It was not a punch, barely any force at all, but he could feel the energies wrapped around her hand. "I don't remember seeing you on the Trail of Tears, Rocky. I don't recall you suffering for your people at all. Me, I've got plans to protect my people, to do something for them. You... I know you're nothing, and I'm willing to prove it. You got the balls to prove me wrong, _Rocky_?"

"Allison!" Her father's voice finally cut through, "Sit down! You do not raise your voice to your uncle!"

"He doesn't think he's my uncle," Allison countered, "he thinks he's better than me, just 'cause Daddy's Irish. Idiot doesn't understand anything but his own petty views. Jesu y Maria," she grinned as the Spanish rolled off her tongue, thinking of who taught her that, "he's just as bad as Noah thinks I am! A blind, ignorant, _twit_! You think you can do it, Rocky? Think you can survive out there as long as I can?"

"Tche, you wouldn't last a day," He muttered, lifting back away from her hand before dropping back to his seat. "You Irish might be stupid enough to try it, but I've got too much respect for our lands to disrespect it with trivial challenges."

"Nor with traditional challenges, as I recall," Gramps commented from the far end of the table. He was actively glaring at Tse, "Son, you have been nothing but rude and snide to your sister for years now, and I am sick of it, and you have treated her children and husband worse. The Tribe has accepted them, _I_ have accepted them, you have no standing to deny their position in our family. Now your niece has called you on our childish behavior, and you remain unforgivably rude. You have been challenged, to a practical test as to which of you has a better grasp of our people's lands, and I see no reason on your part to refuse."

"Father! How can you say that!" Allison's mother turned on her own father, "she's a child, how can you suggest sending her out into the middle of the desert! It's June!"

"Nascha, calm down," Gramps ordered. "You know how good she is out there. The question is, is she good enough?"

"This is not a good idea," Sean Caeghlin said. "She may know the skills, but even wilderness experts won't challenge deserts like this lightly."

"We carry flares and radio-beacons," Allison countered, "you can track us wherever we go, and if we run into trouble we pop a flare and it's all over. Come on, Daddy, I can do this blindfolded."

"No magic," Tse growled, "you agreed not to use any of your witchcraft, and I'll do it."

"Don't need it for this anyhow." Allison smirked at him, "I won't use magic to aide in the test. I'm not swearing it off for self-defense, though, whatever you think."

"Here to the Shinumo Altar, that's a little under forty miles," Gramps told them. "Tomorrow, you leave at noon, with a canteen, a flare, a beacon, and a knife. Stay off the roads, accept no outside assistance, and fire off the flare if you get into trouble. Tse, I suggest you go get ready for tomorrow. Do _not_ fail to be here before noon, boy."

------------------------------

Allison wound up getting grounded for a week, said time to start after she reached Shinumo Altar, which was annoying, but not annoying enough to detract from the satisfaction of finally catching out her uncle. She supposed she could, in a purely logical fashion, understand why her parents put up with his attitude – he was her mother's only sibling, after all. But logical understanding did nothing to overrule her feelings, or her conviction that they would all be far better off with him gone. Regardless, she was done being polite to him, even though she still had no idea what had happened while she was in Japan to so reduce her parent's displeasure at her attitude. Before she left for Japan, a fight like she had just had with Tse would have been followed by her spending the entire summer not just grounded, but confined to the house.

Still, the entire time she was sitting through her parent's tag-team lecture on 'proper behavior', she got the distinct impression that they were less angry than they tried to appear. In particular, her mother kept smiling at her when she though Allison was not looking. They did not even comment on the challenge, or the dangers of the course, just her language and temper. Still, she was glad when they had finished, and went on line long enough to pull up the most detailed maps she could find of the area between Tuba City and Shinumo Altar

The next day dawned clear and hot, the chilly overnight temperatures rapidly spiraling through 'warm' on their way to 'stifling'. Allison ignored that, however, hauling out the well-worn clothes she always wore into the desert – faded jeans, loose white cotton shirt, Army-surplus desert boots, and a floppy wide-brimmed safari hat, all light colors to reflect heat, full-covering to protect her skin, and well broken-in. Hanging from her belt was her best hunting knife, high-quality steel, leather-wrapped hilt worn down by her own hand, a solidly reliable tool. _Maybe Hayate-sensei'll let me bring it next year,_ she thought as she fingered the strap-covered pommel, _shouldn't be a legal issue, with what Ichigo and Toushiro said about blades being big._

Her parents were silent as they drove her back out to her grandparents' house, they had made their arguments the day before while still at her grandparents' house, and failed to dissuade her. Now they were patently resigned, and looking forward to it being over. To Allison's surprise, as they drove up, they had to wend their way through several vehicles, all with that tan-faded patina that marked them as belonging to 'locals'. Most of those vehicles occupants were standing about on her grandparents' front yard and porch.

Hauling herself out of the car, she looked at Gramps and sang out, "What's all this, then? Thought it was just going to be Rocky and me?"

"It is," he replied, "but the family wanted to see you both off. Come up here a second, I wanted to talk to you."

Sure enough, she recognized most of the people standing around watching her – cousins, aunts, uncles, more distant relations. Most of them were watching her with silent neutrality, though she knew for a fact that only a few had any real problems with her. The ones who did were clustered around Tse, frowning or outright glaring at her. The neutral faces made her more nervous, though, since it was a clear sign that most of her relatives disapproved of this. She was not sure if they disapproved of her, of her uncle, or of this challenge, but they clearly disapproved of something.

She had never backed down before, though, and nothing she had learned in Japan had taught her to, so she straightened her spine, and stalked her way up the steps, head high, doing her best to utterly ignore everyone but her grandfather. He quirked one eyebrow, gave her one of the tiny lip-quirks he used in place of smiles, and pulled her off to one side. "I notice you've got that little toothpick on your hip." He picked up a cloth-wrapped bundle off a side table and held it out to her, "thought you might like to take this instead."

She was a little confused, but reached out for the bundle with one hand, flipping the cover away with the other. What was revealed was a massive knife, almost thirty centimeters of blade, and another ten or so of solid grip, wrapped in a faded green scabbard. "This is your bowie," she whispered, shocked that he was offering to let her use it. Then she frowned, and shifted from staring at the knife to glaring at him, "What's wrong with my knife?"

He chuckled, reaching out to pat her shoulder, "nothing, Mosi, but I wanted to make a point. Leave your knife here, I'll take care of it."

"Thanks, Gramps," she said, and began changing blades.

Two minutes later, she slung a full canteen over one shoulder and was ready to go once again, and found Tse had moved to stand at the bottom of the steps as well. He frowned fiercely at the blade on her hip, then sneered, "It's noon, little Ally. Time to go."

"Remember," her grandfather rumbled, "no outside assistance, you live off the land. It's only forty miles, one day's travel if you push it, we'll give you two before we send out search parties. If you run into trouble, fire off your flare, we'll have spotters watching. Now get moving."

Tse sneered at her again, then turned and trotted out to the road, jogging along the pavement at a steady clip. Allison watched him go, and smirked. "Idiot."

"You might want to get moving, Allison," her father offered. "He can keep that pace up all day."

Allison shook her head, "At that pace, by sundown he'll be dead of dehydration." She started down the steps, slow and steady. "Running in daytime's a bad idea, Daddy. At this pace, I can keep going all _night_. See you tomorrow, everyone."

She left the road almost immediately, unlike her uncle, turning out to head for where the cliff behind her grandparents faded away. Her uncle would, she figured, stick to the roads, which would more than double the distance he would have to travel. Cutting straight through, along the edge of the Painted Desert, would save her time and simplify navigation. The Altar was clearly visible from where she began, a wide flat shelf of rock rising out of the desert. The plateau would be visible throughout the day, and once the sun went down, the stars would be more than enough to guide her, if she lost track of where it occluded the sky.

Still, she did not feel like being followed, so once she was out of sight of the house, she took to the air and drifted away, just a few centimeters up. It was easy enough to manage, with the training device, and left no trail for anyone trying to follow her. She traveled for a good two kilometers that way, before settling to the ground once more and vanishing into her Cloak of Shades. While it might violate the spirit of the challenge, she comforted herself with the knowledge that the use of magic would not impact her survival at all, just the ability of anyone to pursue her.

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Night fell, and with it the temperature, plummeting far enough to make her glad of her long sleeves. She caught a rabbit a little before sunset, but traveled for a while longer before making camp in the lee of a rock outcropping. A pile of bushes, a rough flint picked up earlier in the afternoon, and she had herself a small fire. She finished butchering the rabbit, then settled in to wait for if to roast over the fire.

She was contemplating using the scrying spell Lotte-sensei had taught them in May, to try and check up on her uncle, when a voice came out of the darkness, "Hello the fire, mind if I approach? It's a little chilly out here."

She lunged to her feet, one hand going to the knife on her belt, glaring around. She could not see beyond a few meters, but that was no surprise, she had been staring at the fire, relying on her ears and nose to bring her warning of any danger. But she had neither heard nor smelled a thing, until the man called out to her. "Come ahead," she called out, "but some where I can see you, first."

The man that came strolling out of the darkness on the far side of the fire was middling height, a little on the heavy side, wearing jeans and a plaid long-sleeved shirt that practically screamed 'sixties cliché' to her, but he was unarmed, had his hands spread to the sides a little, and he was probably one of the oldest Navajo she had ever seen, face so deeply lined it looked older than the desert cliffs, wispy gray hair drawn back in a tail.

He smiled as he stopped three or so meters from the fire, then turned slowly in place. "I have no weapons, child, and mean you no harm. I merely saw the light of your fire and thought you might like some company."

She debated it for a second, but decided that, between his lack of weapons and her magic, he was safe enough. She settled back down onto the rock she had been using as a seat, and waved him forward. "Feel free. You're welcome to some of the rabbit, once it's done."

He settled onto the bare ground, "My thanks. Gets a might lonely out here sometimes."

Allison shrugged, "maybe you shouldn't be wandering around out here alone, then."

"You are."

She grinned at him, "Yeah, but I'm proving a point."

"Ahhh," he said, rocking back slightly, "the folly of pride. Someone said you did not know enough to do this, and so you're out here to prove them wrong. We all go through that phase. It's a lot of fun, if you don't make too many mistakes."

"Not hardly," she replied, "I'm proving to my uncle that I'm as fit to survive out here as he is. That I'm Navajo."

"Oh, ho, pride it is, then. You look like one of my relatives, except the hair, so I must ask, why does your uncle doubt that you are Navajo? Also, why does your uncle's opinion mean so much to you that you are out here so foolishly alone? Is he an Elder? Does he rule the tribe?"

Allison shook her head, "He's a pain, pushy and rude. He insults my mother and father publicly, ridicules all of us, just because my father's Irish instead of Navajo." She snorted derisively, "Like the Irish haven't suffered at English hands as much as the Navajo."

"Depends on your interpretation of 'suffer'," the old man replied, "They've no Trail of Tears in their history."

"And we Navajo don't have Cromwell, the Potato Famine, or Bloody Sunday." She frowned at him, wondering why he was so curious about her when he had not even told her his name, or asked for hers. "But my uncle's no concern of yours, mister."

"Oh, but he is," the old man replied, "as are you, seeing as both of your are of my people. If there's trouble amongst my kin, it is very much my interest. Tell me, you say you are out here to prove to your uncle that you are Navajo, but how will this prove that?"

She frowned at him, "It's our land, however we came to be here. I'm better at surviving in it than he is, I know the land better. It knows me as one of its own."

"The ability to survive in this desert is not what makes one Navajo," he replied reasonably, reaching forward to turn the stick holding the rabbit. "Heritage, blood, belief... these things define the Navajo, not mere skills. White men can survive in this desert as you do, but that does not make them Navajo."

"Maybe," Allison allowed grudgingly, "but my idiot uncle needs something more concrete than bloodline and belief."

"Who cares what he thinks? He can't kick you out of the tribe or anything like that, you're of Navajo blood. Do you hold to our traditions? That should be more than enough for you, and if it's not enough for anyone else, that's their problem, yes?"

There was something wrong with that, she knew there was, something that put it in the 'wouldn't it be nice but it's not' category, rather than 'sure it is'. But at the same time, she could not argue with any part of it, could not point to any specific instance where it was wrong, except for her uncle's pigheadedness. "Yeah, I wish," she muttered, settling forward on her knees to stare at the fire, "I just got tired of his whining, I guess, and it was either this or pop him one right in the jaw. Mad as I was, I probably would've taken his jaw off, too."

The man made a questioning noise, then, "You don't look that overly muscled. Does he suffer from some condition?"

Allison shook her head and chuckled at little, "Nah, but Signum's taught me a lot about using magic to fuel a blow, and mad as I was, I'm not so sure I would have remembered her lesson on how _not_ to do it. So, instead I'm out here in the desert, listening to some stranger say things that should get him belted, wondering why I bothered coming out here."

"I think you came out here to learn, child." He reached forward gain, peeling a haunch off the rabbit, then stood up. "My thanks for sharing your meal, Mosi. Think on what we've said here, and you'll find your uncle's not such a problem, I think. Safe journeys."

Before she could recover from the shock of his knowing her name, he had vanished into the darkness. Not being one to let a challenge like that slide, she practically jumped the fire to try and catch up, only to find that, not only could she not see or hear him anywhere, his tracks simply vanished four meters from the fire. She had not felt even the slightest trace of magic, but it was the only answer she could think of as to how he managed to disappear.

Grumbling to herself about crotchety old men, she settled back beside her fire a little more lightly than before, and pulled the rabbit off a little sooner than she had originally intended. She cleaned up the minimal camp-site, making absolutely certain the fire was out, then returned to her march, eating on the move, sighting in on the stars to point her in the right direction.

Despite his disappearance, though, the odd conversation continued to play through her mind, leaving her always with one simple question, "Why does Rocky's opinion matter to me?"

------------------------------

She reached the base Altar shortly after dawn, her only stop having been to cook her dinner. She was tired, her feet and knees aching, but glad to see she had made it sooner than anyone expected. It should have taken her until mid-day, at best, before she reached the Altar, but going all night, taking ruthless advantage of her youth, let her get here early.

She was not certain, to be honest, where she was supposed to meet up to prove she had made it, the Altar was a substantial plateau in its own right, after all, but figured anyone waiting for her would be up on top. _At least the south end's worn down,_ she thought, staring at the sloped walls of the plateau. Her researches the night before had shown that the north end of the long, narrow plateau was significantly rougher than the south. It was over a kilometer long, though about half that at its widest point, long and narrow. The lip would be the worst, as the plateau was nearly vertical there before shifting to the flat top.

About halfway up the slope, however, she reconsidered her plans. Further south, around the curve of the Altar from where she had arrived, she could see a rather substantial camp-site – about twenty vehicles, arranged in a rough circle about an equal number of tents and several fires. A lot of people were moving about down there, but even at this distance she could see several standing on vehicles, scanning south-east back towards Tuba City.

"Looks like they all got here yesterday," she muttered. "Kinda early, but I guess they were nervous. Well, let's go see if this qualifies as 'arriving at the Altar' or not."

Out of simple habit, now that she knew she was observed, she did her best to fade into the background. As she moved closer, she decided to see just how close she could get, and wrapped herself in the Cloak of Shades. Again, she consoled herself that it was not a violation of the agreement, since it was not part of 'surviving' and, from a certain point of view, she had already finished the challenge.

She prowled her way down the slope to the flat ground, and faded from bush to boulder. There were only four people 'on watch', and they were all focused to the south-east, which made it easy to get to the circle of vehicles. She recognized her father's pickup, and her grandfather's old Bronco, both battered and worn, as well as several cousins' vehicles. They were close enough to provide shelter from wind and critters, but not close enough to hinder her access to the tents.

She found pretty much everyone gathered in the center around the largest single fire, sitting in camp chairs. She paused at the side of one tent, considering how to make her entrance. She should, to be fair, just shift visible and say hello, but seeing her grandparents and her parents sitting next to each other, they just made too tempting a target. So, as they and those gathered with them discussed the challenge, the weather, and politics, Allison slipped around through the tents and chairs around to just behind her father's chair.

It took an effort of will not to laugh as her father continued to grumble about how he 'never should have allowed this', and how his 'precious little Allison was in danger' and how he 'wondered how anyone could sit here calmly while Allison was probably injured and terrified'. Her father had never really been happy with her choices of hobbies – he was very much of the old Irish opinion that women neither fought nor 'roughed it', and should not have to. Every time she did something particularly dangerous, he descended into grumbling worries. On the other hand, he had always made it clear that, whatever she did, she would, as he put it, 'bloody well do it the right way', and it was in large part thanks to him that she knew how to survive and fight as well as she did.

So she stood up right behind him, crossed her arms staring up at Shinumo Altar, and faded into visibility asking, "So, is this close enough, or do I actually have to climb the damn thing?"

There was a moment of consternation, made absolutely perfect by her father lunging out of his chair with a surprised cry. Before she could really appreciate the scene, she found herself airborne under another's power, as her father swept her up into a massive bear-hug. As soon as he let her down, her more reserved mother pulled her into a gentler hug, though, as everyone else was welcoming and congratulating her, her mother whispered, "you're still grounded."

Allison just laughed, and reveled in the attention. When everyone had begun to calm down, she was 'forced' to provide a full account of journey, though she was a little nervous about her magic use. All her rationalizations now struck her as too much like the tricks the English used on her ancestors. There was some hemming and hawing, and quit a few frowns and comments that she probably should not have, but no one discounted her journey based on them, though her grandfather did complain. "I was tracking you, silly girl. Then your trail up and vanished without rhyme or reason without a rock or rational explanation to why. Scared the crap out of me, trying to think of what I'd tell your mother."

She noticed when she described her visitor, however, that her grandfather and the rest of the older folks listening became seriously concerned, and took to asking very specific, very pressing questions, none of which they explained. When she tried to get an explanation, the most she got was her grandfather's order to, "just tell your story, Mosi."

"Not much more to tell," she replied. "I ate on the move, scared a few coyotes a little while later, and started up the Altar's slope a little after dawn. Saw you guys all camped out down here and came in to say hello. So," she fixed her grandfather with the steadiest stare she could manage, trying to imitate Signum-sensei in a bad mood, and asked, "who was he?"

Her grandfather shook his head slightly, "No one of moment."

"Bull," Allison countered, "or you all wouldn't have freaked when I described him. Someone in the tribes played a joke on me, and I want to know who."

"It was no joke," One of her great-uncles replied, shaking his head slowly, "not at all. Well for you that you demonstrated hospitality and politeness, Mosi. From what you describe of his words and appearance, I would label him Shaman, but I know of no shamans in the tribe that match his description, not amongst the Navajo, nor the Hopi, nor any other tribe in this area."

"He was Navajo," Allison countered, "the eyes and face, the manner... he was Navajo."

"Then you are more certain than we," her grandfather said. "Who he is, or was, or may be, is a mystery. I would suggest that you do what he told you, and remember the conversation. Who you had it with is immaterial, beside the subject." He shoved himself to his feet, effectively terminating the conversation, "now, do we want to wait here for Tse, or head back to town and leave a skeleton team to bring him home?"

Allison glared at moment longer, then gave it up. "Don't really care, myself. But if you're all willing to give me a couple minutes, I can try to find him."

She slid out of her chair to a more stable seat cross-legged on the ground, then put her hands on her knees, palms up and cupped inwards, and the area between her hands began to fill with mist. Drawing forth her energies was easy, by this point, but shaping it into a scrying spell was far more difficult. Like bindings, it required precise control, but it required far more in the way of multi-tasking than the bindings they had learned to date. It was also rather difficult to find the target, outside of certain specific criteria. Finding other mages was down-right easy, if they were close enough for her to reach, but finding non-mages was fiendishly difficult. Allison had found it almost impossible, back at school, when practicing in the evenings, to find the caretakers in their house at the far end of the valley.

But Tse proved relatively easy to locate – whether it was the lack of workroom shields limiting her range, or something else, she could not tell. She found him not two kilometers away, moving along the road as she had expected, and took a moment to bring up the image between her hands. "There he is," she said, skin crawling slightly as people moved in too close to look over her shoulder. "Almost here. We should probably wait here for him."

Wait they did, though everyone began packing up the campsite. Allison turned to, helping her parents with their gear, while one of the pickups closest to the road was dispatched to fetch Tse. It came back shortly before the last of the tents was packed up, Tse standing in the open bed, balancing with hands on the roof. Allison almost went out to meet them, then shrugged, and returned to tying down the gear in the bed of her father's pickup. Nonetheless, Tse came strolling over once his ride stopped, sneer plastered on his face.

"Surprised to see you here, kid," he commented, "since I didn't see your flare last night. What'd you do, turn around and go running home to Daddy?"

Allison felt her temper spike, and turned to glare at him, but before she said anything, a stray thought stopped her cold. _Why do I care what he thinks?_ She mulled that over for a moment, glare fading, then realized that the question itself was meaningless – she did not care, not really. Her reaction was simply the ingrained reaction of years of spite. So instead of the cutting remark she had prepared, she just shook her head and muttered, "you're not worth the bother, savage."

She heard the shocked gasps ripple through their audience, but ignored the noise to continue securing the gear. She did not, however, turn her back on her uncle, and sure enough, he lunged closer, not attacking but very nearly so, pressing in close to tower over her, growling, "Watch your tongue, half-breed _witch_."

She turned to frown at him as she realized something about him, then shook her head, "Spirits and Gods preserve us, that's all you've got, isn't it? Your petty pride, narrow world view, and this blind hate are all you've got." She shook her head sadly, "You're just what I called you – a savage. You're what the white folks want you to be, a stupid ignorant primitive too blinded by mindless hatred to understand the greatness you're descended from. You call me a half-breed? You're right, but your take on it's wrong. It's not an insult, it's a compliment. I'm the best. The best of the Navajo," she waved at her mother, "and the best of the Irish," she waved at her father, "combined into one unbeatable package. I'm the best, and I'll prove it long before I'm done. But you... you're never going to be more than an ignorant savage thinking he's fleecing the white folks who are passing through on their paid vacations. So take your attitude and piss off. You're not worth bothering with, but you're also not worth putting up with."

She was surprised he actually took a swing at her, despite the provocation. They had both said far more insulting things, in prior verbal exchanges, but he had never even tried to hit her. She was surprised enough that she only managed to get part way clear, pulling her head back and to the side so his wild uppercut glanced off her jaw and snapped her head sideways, instead of crashing into her chin. Surprise was not enough to stop ingrained reaction, however, and even as the shouts of anger and sense of motion told her everyone else was coming to her aide, she arched her back away from her uncle, and snapped a knee up into his groin.

He was even more surprised than she had been, folding over her knee with an anguished grunt. Allison arched forward again while twisting to the side, bringing her right fist around to slam into his temple while he was helpless. The blow snapped him around and sent him tumbling into the dust, and her instincts screamed at her to follow up on the attack. She could remember her father's advice quite clearly, _once an enemy's on the ground, don't stop. You stop, he'll get back up again. You don't stop until he stops moving, or you are absolutely positive it is physically impossible for him to get back up again._ She had always liked that rule, and had never questioned it.

But this time, she relaxed back off her toes, and shook her head. "Sorry about that, Mom, Dad. I didn't mean to set him off like that."

The audience stared at her in shocked surprise for a moment, except her parents, and she felt a brief bitter amusement. She had never gotten in a fight on the Reservation – at school, in Ireland, certainly, but never in the Reservation. From the wide-eyed stares and slack expressions, no one had expected how ruthlessly and thoroughly she had taken Tse down, not out of 'a little girl'.

Her father coughed slightly, then shook his head, Irish accent thickening as he replied, "You should nae ha' provoked him, lass. He's a stupid bugger, but you should nae be startin' fights wi' 'im."

"I thought you had learned better, when you challenged him to this hike," her mother added, "but provoking him again after you won so cleanly? I'm disappointed, Allison."

"We'll need someone to take him to the hospital," Gramma said, from where she was checking Tse over, "but I don't think he's in immediate danger. I'd suggest we get him there, and the rest of us return home. Anything else can wait, and I've got food waiting for everyone. Allison, you'll need a shower first, I think. Your mother has a change of clothes for you." Gramma continued issuing directions in that calm no-nonsense voice, and the convoy was shortly ready to roll.

Allison watched everyone get ready, the first vehicle rolling out with Tse in the bed, then turned to her mother. "Mom?" When Nascha looked up, Allison continued, "I'll fly back, okay? I need to think some more." Her mother frowned, but nodded, and Allison took to the air.

Through the training device, she could maintain much greater altitudes and speeds than she could on her own, and found it relatively easy to keep up with the convoy of vehicles. Mostly she just stayed close to her parents, floating about it far enough away to stay out of the way but close enough to keep an eye on everyone. It took her a few minutes to become comfortable enough to divert her attention to thought, though she found herself faced once again with questions from the night before. Who the man was did not worry her so much as the questions about her identity he had raised.

"Why am I so sensitive about my race," she muttered to herself? "Why is it so important?" She had never really thought about it, she had just always considered it critical to her sense of self. She had always been defensive about her ancestry, just as she had always been proud of it. Now having to question what that ancestry really meant to her was unsettling, uncomfortable, and unavoidable.

She wound up having to progress through the sort of step-by-step analysis of a failed spell that Lotte and Hayate had taught them. She went through what she was proud of in her history, what she was sensitive about, what reasons she had for either. They created two impressive lists, with a lot of matching reasons. But by the time she settled back down to earth at her grandparent's house, she had reached one conclusion – without her past, she had no way to define her present. It was the events that happened to her ancestors that defined and explained her world and her self, and without them, she was just another generic teenager. Without that history, she was no different from the cookie-cutter drones that populated her last school. Until she made her own mark, made her own legends, that combined history was what made her unique.

She could see problems with that idea, of course. There was the magic, her physical abilities, the quick mind that had always put her at the top of her classes until Hayate's school. But those were relatively knew, or at least her awareness of them was new, while her awareness of her ancestry and history had always been part of her, just as pride in their ancestry was part of her parents. Like her parents, though, she was finally coming to understand that pride in her own ancestry did not require anger or hatred, that those lead inevitably to the weakness of pride Signum had warned her of.

She was not entirely comfortable with the internal debate, when everyone gathered again, but she could finally let it go, leave it alone, long enough to enjoy just being with her family.

------------------------------

Author's Notes

1) Mosi is a Navajo name meaning 'cat', and is Allison's middle name. Tse is a Navajo name meaning 'rock', hence Allison referring to him as 'Rocky' (also an insulting reference to the titular movie character). Nascha is a Navajo name meaning 'owl'.

2) Tuba City & Shinumo Altar are both real places, in the Navajo Reservation, the first a city, the second a plateau about forty miles northwest of Tuba City.

3) Survival in the desert: I'm no survivalist, nor an expert, but I did live in Saudi Arabia for a year and a half in the mid-90's. The light colors/long sleeves thing is true, it worked for my family and I, and our friends, so it's what I'm basing this on. As for the day/night temperature change – over Christmas break, in a single day while out in the desert, I went from sweating in jeans and a light t-shirt, to shivering and unable to feel my toes despite jeans, two shirts, and a heavy leather jacket, so that IS real. Fun, too.

4) Navajo Culture: I freely admit that I know very little about Navajo culture, other than that they were one of the least violent, and most closed of the major Native American tribes. They have also held onto their own culture better than most, including one of the most unique languages ever recorded. Keep in mind, all that's things I've picked up from novels, on-line, and painfully shallow over-views that tried to cover all major Native American tribes, so I could very well be dead wrong – if that's true, my apologies, but I've been unable to find any readily accessible works on the Navajo. Please feel free to point out errors & provide more accurate resources. I've done my best to be fair to what I know of Native Americans in general, Navajo in particular, and all human beings. If I've offended any Navajo with the preceding story, my apologies, but it's the best I can manage as an amateur.

5) The title of this chapter comes from an Irish folk song I last heard sung by Phil Dye (on a vinyl record!), which album I recommend to any fans of such music. The song was about Irish rebels gathering for one of the innumerable revolts against the British, with the rebels to be gathered 'by the rising of the moon.' I have also seen the term used, though I don't remember where, as a reference for the growth of feminism. Either use works for this story.

------------------------------

pfeil: Yeah, I laughed when I finished writing that line. Allina's morals are pretty unique, even if they're not written in stone yet. You'll note, however, who's PDA she refused to hack.

CrimsonDX: I originally couldn't think of anything for the others to do during Mariachi's rescue – I knew I needed them there, but had no idea what to do with them, so I fudged it. Then I had the idea I used in_Strong Right Hand_, and it meshed well with what I wanted for Marcel. I'm honestly uncomfortable with Natalia, I've been waffling on just how crazy she is (and how long she's been crazy), but I've got some ideas now that'll show up in the sequel to Academy Blues. As for the last line, it does pretty much define Yussef's and Marcel's relationship, but... I've actually got a last scene that was supposed to follow that one (actually the original scene I wrote for that story), but it's set in the middle of the aforementioned sequel – major spoilerage would have occurred, so that scene will show up in the sequel, that's got a couple a better ones. Yes, I am perfectly willing to tease my readers:).

Kell Shock: Yeah, that children's tune was heard quite often at Hayate's school, and most of it was Yussef's fault. You're right about the shield, but getting the blast 'to go mostly in one direction' was the point:), and where they're experiencing problems. The brute force rule's a good one, but it's not really Yussef's style – he prefers more efficiency in his plans (brute force smacks of barbarism and lack of discipline, after all), but that fourth rule is exactly what he was trying to teach, and what Marcel best figured out. As for Juliet, yeah she has temper control issues, and she is a close-in fighter at all respects, and for teamwork remember, the girls were never deliberately trained in team-work like Yussef trained the boys. I'm still debating if the 'Myrmidons' comment was a joke or not – part of me says it's a cool idea, but part of me thinks its corny. More thought is required.

SpaceBrotha: The kids probably remember Takashi real clearly, but he's not the sort of person one approaches about lessons. Laura did because he rescued her in Kyoto & she never admits to fear, but the others would probably rather avoid him, though Takashi's reflection of Laura's probe is probably what gave Ichigo & Toushiro the idea. Regarding Natalia's 'brother', I just couldn't accept it in the Nanoha-verse – everything in the OS & A's says death is permanent, no spirits or anything, while holographic/AI beings are quite real (all the Wolkenritter, for instance). As for her insanity, I have some ideas for it for the sequel, though how much a part it will play is still being debated.

Baughn: you can redesign the hardware we're built of, but the software's still beyond our comprehension. I wouldn't be horrified by immortal humans, I'd probably pity them more than anything else – they'd be doomed to utter insanity in only a couple centuries, from boredom most likely. The whole techno-immortal idea's one I've thought of for an original story, if I ever post it, hopefully it'll be clearer than I have been here. Glad you're still enjoying the story, though.


	8. 08 Oops!

**Oops!**

An Academy Blues Side Story

By Daishi Prime

Setting Note: This story has absolutely nothing to do with Academy Blues, Side Stories, or any other Deva Magic story, other than the characters. It is pure insanity and fun, written to make me laugh and make all of you cringe. If it were part of the official continuity (which it is NOT), it would occur sometime during the Academy Blues sequel, but since it is not part of the continuity, it's just an amusing bit of drivel. I blame food poisoning.

------------------------------

The flash of white cleared as the teleport finished, and Laura shouted for joy as the three of them emerged in clear air, not inside a star or still caught in the blast. Spinning rapidly about she pointed at Yussef, "Hah! Suck on that, Yu-chan! I _told _you I could get us out of there before it blew!"

Yussef batted at her hand, "Yeah, yeah, you still missed. We're supposed to be on the ground, right?"

"She missed by more than that," Noriko commented, pointing down.

Below them stretched a wide valley, far larger than Hayate's valley, with a lake at the bottom of it. Standing on a promontory peninsula was a painfully baroque castle, and across a bay from that was small village and train stop. The mountains were rugged, forested, and rather beautiful. But they were not 'their' mountains, not the familiar trio of peaks that surrounded Hayate's school, and that castle had no place in Japan, let alone their valley.

"Well, crap," Laura muttered, frowning at the castle, "Where'd _that _thing come from?"

"You missed," Yussef reminded her.

"Not now, children," Noriko interrupted Laura's reply, "let's go down and see if we can find out where we are."

Laura, predictably, took off first. She swung wide of the castle, looking for a concentration of people, and soon found it in a large lawn stretching down from the castle to the lake, figures in black pouring out of the castle, most of them looking up at her. As she closed, she decided most of them looked like fellow teenagers, then that – despite the predilection for poorly-cut black dresses – there was a roughly even mix of boys and girls, a fairly eclectic mix of ethnicities, and they all seemed to be utterly amazed by her. _As well they should be,_ she thought to herself with a mental laugh. What really puzzled at her mind, however, were the multitude of twigs they all seemed to be waving, especially the trio furthest forward.

_Looks like a school,_ Noriko commented, then warned her, _look-sharp, teachers coming out. Let's land a little short of the leaders there. _

_Roger that,_ Laura shot back, and altered course to settle gently to earth, close enough to be heard, but far enough back not to make anyone nervous. She gave the trio a once over, noting how the red-headed boy and the girl flanked the dark-haired kid, reminding her of Luke and Marcel hanging around Yussef. Jerking her head at Middle Boy, she sang out, "Oi, any of you kids speak Japanese?" They blinked at her, confused, and muttered among themselves, not quite intelligible, but understandable. Shifting mental gears, she tried again, "How's about English?"

That got responses, as all three twitched, then twitched again as Yussef and Noriko settled to the ground next to her. After a second, Middle Boy stepped forward a little, "English works. Who are you, then?"

She frowned at him, feeling a little insulted that he had not recognized her. Picking up on his silly accent, she shot back, "Laura, Hayate's Quantum Knight. Doy," she switched to a bad imitation of his accent, "what, have you not been watching the telly for the last year or somethin'?"

"Laura, behave," Noriko ordered, putting a hand on her arm. Laura shrugged it off, but waved for Noriko to take over. The princess nodded, then turned to the trio, "We are students of Hayate Yagami, who operates a mage academy in Japan. Have you heard of her? She and we have been making quite a lot of news this last year."

"Never heard of 'er," the red-headed boy muttered, "She some sort of American witch?"

Before they could reply, a somewhat shrill but definitely authoritarian voice shouted, "Mister Potter! Mister Weasly! Miss Granger! Why I am surprised to find the three of you out here I will never understand, but for some reason I am! Perhaps because I should think you three, of all the students here, would understand the purpose of orders to_ remain inside_!" The woman striding rapidly down the hill was small, older, and quite obviously a force of nature incarnate. She reminded Laura of a cross between Vita's temper and Signum's authority. The trio in front of them confirmed that impression when they flinched in unison. Behind her came a trio of men, one of enormous proportion, one so tall and thin he looked like he was about to fall over, and a old man so wrapped in robes only his beard and eyes were visible.

The woman strode to a halt, arms crossed, tapping yet another stick against her side. "I am quite familiar with your opinion that you can answer any danger, Mister Potter, but really! Intruders Aparating onto the campus during the Tournament, and you come running out here? After the dangers you have already endured this year? This is too much! Get inside, go to my office, and wait there for me. Touch nothing!"

Laura giggled at her tirade, and the hang-dog expressions of the trio, "Rule-breakers? Cool. They're always more fun than straights."

The woman's glare turned to her, and if anything became even fiercer. "I do not know who you are, child, but while you are on this school's grounds, you are just as bound by its rules as any student!"

"Now, Minerva," the old man said, finally reaching speaking distance, "there's no need for that. They are visitors, obviously, not students. Though I am rather curious how they came to join us, and would ask for their names?"

Laura blinked at him for a second, then glanced at Noriko. The man had a friendly 'kindly old man' air about him that made her want to trust him. Naturally, that made her all the more suspicious, so she asked mentally, _Riko-chan? How much do we tell him?_

_Nothing,_ Yussef suggested. _We have no idea who they are, or where we are. I doubt there's any cult this size even in the West, certainly not living in a British castle, so where did they come from?_

_Names and bare details,_ Noriko decided, _We'll tell them as little as possible until we figure out where we are._

Suiting actions to words, she stepped forward slightly, bowed politely, and introduced herself, "My name is Noriko Asegawa, of Japan. My friends and I were assisting with some law enforcement work, when we were almost caught in an explosion. We teleported out, but I would hazard to guess we were still caught in the blast, and it threw off our teleport. May I ask where we are?"

"You're on the front lawn of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," the old man replied, "I am Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster. Behind me are Rubeus Hagrid, our Groundskeeper, and Severus Snape, Potions. You have already met Minerva McGonagall, our Transmutation teacher. I believe Professor McGonagall has, of course, already introduced the most infamous of our current Gryffindors. Come, let us retire inside, to a nice warm fire and some tea, where we can discuss this more comfortably."

He reached out a gentle hand, moving to rest it on Noriko's shoulder as a guide, but froze halfway there. Laura and Yussef had both seen him move, and the Arab snapped his sword up into guard. The more blatant threat was Laura, who's own hand snapped up, arm straight out, the white charge of a Positron Buster glowing above the back of her hand. "No touching," she growled, "and no moving, not yet."

Noriko just hung her head, but someone else responded first. "I don't know what threat that silly light is supposed to be, girl," the tall sickly-looking man intoned snidely, stick held negligently in his finger-tips as it pointed at her, "but you do not threaten a Hogwarts Headmaster."

Laura frowned at him, knowing he thought he was being intimidating, and that that twig was dangerous however ridiculous it looked. But mostly, she was annoyed by his tone. Sensing Yussef and Noriko tensing, Laura sneered back at him, and snorted, "Bolt, fire." It came down from directly above, slamming into Snape with a thunderous crash. The man crumpled to the ground under the strike, bouncing hard once, the twig flipping out of the resultant back-blast of dirt and debris. Laura watched that for a moment, then turned back to the hold man, "No touching, and no moving."

As Snape hauled himself to his knees with a groan and patter of dirt, Yussef added, "We're fighting a war on our end, and none of you have yet proven to us that you are not involved. Forgive our paranoia, but we have had several comrades injured already, and have no wish to be harmed or incarcerated ourselves."

A crack in the air overhead cut off further conversation, and Laura flinched from the accompanying pulse of chaotic magical energy. She drained the Buster without releasing it, rolling to one side to keep the audience in view while she got a look at whoever had just arrived. Seeing the trio of figures – tall, medium, and short, in black, white, and red – she relaxed instantly, breathing a sigh of relief. Then she smiled, and began waving wildly, shouting, "Hayate-sensei! Vita-sensei! Rei-chan! Down here!"

"You know, ditz, they probably noticed without you making an idiot of yourself."

"Bite me, Yu-chan," even that was delivered in a happy laughing tone, "we're going home after all. See! I _told _you I could get us out of there safe!"

"You didn't," Noriko countered, "Hayate-sensei will take us home. Kami-sama, that spell was hideously powerful."

Dumbledore was the first local to find his voice, "Some of your teachers, I presume?"

"Our Headmistress," Laura answered happily, "the greatest mage the human race has ever produced."

"That is an arguable point, Laura," Hayate said as she settled to ground. She looked the scene over critically for a moment, then turned a jaundiced eye on her most rambunctious student. "Tell me, child, how long were you here before you attacked that poor man?"

Laura slumped a little, grumbling, "He started it."

"You started it," Yussef it said, "he escalated it, you finished it. Not the most diplomatic, but he was threatening you in response to your attempt to maintain our security. He'll be fine in a bit, while our integrity was maintained."

Hayate shook her head, "Still too quick to violence, Laura. Though I understand your worries." She pulled Laura into a brief hug, which Laura returned with a will, then did the same for both Noriko and Yussef. Once she was certain that all three of them were all right, she turned her attention to their audience, bowing politely. "My apologies for my students' abrupt visit and behavior. I'm afraid they just escaped a rather violent end."

"Hmm, so they were informing us," Dumbledore said, returning the bow with surprising grace. "I'm afraid we suffered a... break down in communications, just now. Understandable, given their circumstances." Names were exchanged once again, Vita and Reinforce included, and Laura found herself fidgeting as Hayate and Dumbledore spent a few minutes exchanging pleasantries. When that wound down, the old man offered, "Would you like to come inside? Perhaps we could discuss our situations, teaching methods, or perhaps just the weather?"

Hayate smiled at him, but shook her head. "I'm afraid not, Headmaster. We have crossed over a very large number of dimensions to get here, much further afield than we normally wander from our own world. There are rules for such journeys, standards we must obey, and they include minimizing any impact. We could do irreparable harm, with no malicious intent whatsoever, and take such harm ourselves with just as little intent. Better to be on our way, and minimize the risks."

Goodbyes were said, apologies all around, save from Laura to Snape, and then they were flying again, circling higher until they reached what Hayate felt would be a safe distance. That was further away than they had arrived, for Hayate could sense some sort of barriers attempting to prevent her from using any magic, let alone teleport.

"Gather around, children," Hayate ordered. "We have a long way to go, and it will be easier to do if I carry you in the Sword. Arc of Angels."

Laura had a moment of absolute whiteness... followed by more whiteness. The space within the Sword of Light was a vast chamber, white marble floor covered in white carpets, all beneath a towering dome of more white stone. Beneath the dome, in a chaotic jumble of red-brown, were ranks upon ranks of bookshelves, curling away into maze-like distance, reaching to heights that would have required flight to reach.

"Well, at least she's cleaned up since the first time," Vita muttered, stomping over to a shelf to pick up a book and start blindly flipping pages. "Back then, there was nothing but piles of books everywhere, heaps and drifts of them like snow. You could see the artwork on the outer walls, though. A little obsessive, just people reading books, but at least it wasn't all _white_. I feel like I'm in a hospital."

"Actually, you can thank me for the organization," Reinforce commented, walking over to snatch the book out of Vita's hands, and return it to its place with reverent care. "I spend most of my time here, when Mistress Hayate does not require my aide, collating and organizing. Shimazu-san had a most formidable mind, to create all of this."

Floating up to the top of the shelves, Laura could not restrain a gasp of surprise. The dome was easily stadium-sized, and surrounded by eight half-sized domes. The corners where three domes intersected were supported by massive columns, but the shelves extended even there, curling up the columns. The whole effect created an endless, winding maze of passages. The sheer scope of information that sight represented was awe-inspiring, and the urge to run about grabbing books at random was almost irresistible.

"Oi, Riko-chan," she called down without looking down, "I don't think you should be touching that book, let alone trying to read it."

There was a surprised sound, then, "I wasn't trying to read it! I was just looking!"

"Put it back, please," Reinforce told her, just as the hold place shivered, even Laura in the air shaking. "And that was the first teleport. We'll be home shortly, children... and yes, Vita, that includes you... so please just stay here and be patient. You can get in a lot of trouble by reading the right book the wrong way in this place."

Laura settled back to the ground, still sorely tempted. So she decided to change the subject to distract herself. "So, Vita-sensei, how much trouble are we in this time? 'Cause, you know it's all Yu-chan's fault."

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Author's Note 2: My humblest, sincerest, and most shame-faced apologies for the preceding. The scene occurred to me quite early on in Academy Blues, when several reviews commented on the similarities to that inestimable, inescapable bit of fluff written by J.K. Rowling. Short as it is, the above was just a silly idea. As further apology, please feel free to proceed on to the next Side Story, Bombard.

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Kell Shock: Yup, more about Allison, just trying to build her up some. Like I said when I started this, Side Stories is entirely dependent upon inspiration for the particular focus character, and the idea for Rising of the Moon came about while I was thinking about the students' summers. Allison's opinion of Tse was heavily shaded by his treatment of her and her family, rather than a level-headed analysis of his capabilities – he's capable enough, but he does not approach her own level of survival skills. Your theories about the old man she met in the desert are good, but I don't think I'll ever define who he was – he works better as the mystery he is. Was he Circle? Shaman? Ghost? Kriegsen in disguise? A spirit or god of some sort? Hayate or Takashi in disguise? Who knows, which was the point:). The next Side Story is about Toushiro, and I've got rough ideas for Luke, Ichigo, and Juliet again. There won't be much Side Story material on Laura, Yussef, Noriko or Cidela, though, since they get so much face time in the main story.

CrimsonDX: Allison did start out in my mind as just 'the resident angry kid', but that evolved into her dual bloodline and resultant confusion pretty rapidly (in my head faster than in the story). I'm glad your opinion of her has improved. I can't blame you for trying to guess where I'm going or who's connected to who in my plans, it's one of the fun parts of these reviews. Natalia's experience trying to contact her brother was too much for her to handle, though not so much a 'final straw' as an 'undermining blow'. It cracked her sanity, though she was already at least a little around the bend to try it in the first place, but has not lost her mind completely yet. I'd tell you more, but that would spoil several of my plot ideas, at least a little.

Derek Q: You're kind of right about the different magics. Thing is, the differences between the Circles and most of the other traditions are political and organizational, not stylistic. There is less difference in their actual magics than there is between Midchilda and Velka magic (which isn't very much, per Nanoha and Nanoha A's – still haven't seen StrikerS). Natalia's powers and training are Midchildan in basis, modified a little by the Al Hazred twists she has learned. She's a long way (as of the end of Academy Blues) from the sort of fundamental leap what you're suggesting would entail... though I won't say where she's going to wind up. Most of my discomfort with the manifestation she calls her brother not being canon was not so much the magic as the fact that everything in the Nanoha-verse makes it clear that death is a one-way trip – Chrono & his mother in the original series outright stated, if I recall correctly, that not even Al Hazred could reverse death. She has a connection to the transition-state that is death far deeper than most people, and she will use that, I promise, it just won't be full-scale resurrection.


	9. 09 Bombard

**Bombard**

An Academy Blues Side Story

By Daishi Prime

Setting Note: This takes place in the early part of the school's summer break, after the first year.

------------------------------

Toushiro spent the first few days of his summer vacation relaxing. Sleeping late, playing video games, catching up on manga – generally doing as little as he could get away with. Predictably, he was climbing the walls by the fourth day, looking for something more interesting to do. After the excitement and variety of Hayate-sensei's school, his old hobbies were paling in comparison. What was the fun of playing a superhero soldier fighting the good fight, when he had already done just that?

He was just reaching that point when he decided to generate a little variety by harassing his old friends. So one afternoon, he took a stroll up the street, wondering at how strange but normal everything seemed after Hayate's. He found the gate of his last school easily enough, shortly before the last bell rang. He parked himself against the gate post, straddling the guide-path, one knee bent, arms crossed, head hanging, the very picture of unworried cool.

Sure enough, not a minute later the bells rang, and the local noise level rose appreciably. It still took a while for kids to start filtering out, bags and books clutched in their hands, and he was surprised at not only how many he recognized, but how many gave him longer looks than they should have. The boys were a mix of distrust, jealousy, and comradeship, about what he would have expected, but the girls were a big surprise, giggling and whispering to each other as they passed.

Finally, one of his pals showed up with a shout, "Shiro! You slacker punk, what're you doing at a real school?"

Cocking his head sideways, Toushiro grinned at Kaneda's shout, and sent back, "Come to see how the incompetent half lives. What're you still doing in school, man, it's summer! Oh! That's right, you're vacation doesn't start for what, two more weeks?"

Kaneda reached him and punched his shoulder lightly, "Ah, shut it. You don't have to rub it in."

Toushiro laughed back, "Nah, just laughing at all of you. The rest of the guys around?"

"Toushiro!" A glance past Kaneda showed him four other boys moving over, Sado, Seichiro, Hiei, and Urashima, the rest of his old crew.

Waving one hand negligently, he called back, "Hey, guys, long time no see. Any of you managing to pass this year?"

The chorus of groans and insults that floated back made him laugh, and they spent a few minutes good-naturedly clogging the gate, though none of the other departing students objected. Toushiro had been well known, though not universally popular. For a while they were just saying hello, then talking about where to continue one, when a rumble of engines sounded from the neighboring high school. Ten seconds later, a trio of overly-decorated sports cars exploded out of the neighboring high school's main gate, tires squealing as they wrenched through ninety degree turns, and screamed down the road. The wailing of engines drowned out any conversation, and fixed all eyes on the racers. Toushiro just grimaced at them at first, annoyed by the noise and excessive speed, until he saw who was sitting in the passenger seat of the lead vehicle.

"Yeah, the motor-gangs are back 'in', especially those bastards," Kaneda muttered, misinterpreting the look on Toushiro's face. "Picked up a couple new members, making more trouble."

"That's my sister," Toushiro muttered back, walking out into the street to watch the cars as they rocketed down the street before wrenching through another sharp turn, headed for downtown Tokyo. "In the lead car."

"Yeah, she's going out with Yamada Kaoru," Hiei told him, "started back in October, spends all her time at their hangout."

"She told Mom and Dad she's at cram school," Toushiro muttered, more worried than angry at the lie. "They getting in any major trouble, or just driving too fast?" 

"Ah, we dunno that, man," Seichiro told him, "we're just guys, not delinquents."

"Don't worry about it," Hiei reassured, "they're just a motor gang. They like going fast and pretending to be bad, but they're nothing. Punks with delusions of adequacy. They're not _real _criminals."

"Yeah, yeah," Kaneda punched Hiei's shoulder, "we know all about you and your wanna-be Yakusa ways."

"I'm no wanna-be," Hiei snarled at him silently, and punched him back, but a gesture from Toushiro slammed a shield between them before they could get serious.

"Come on, guys," Toushrio said, "no fighting today. The takoyaki shop still there?" A chorus of ascent rumbled back, so he nodded, "let's head over there. You kids can try and impress me while I tell you what I've been up to."

The rest of the afternoon passed rather well. The guys traded differing views of the same stories, filling Toushiro in on what he had missed over the past months at Hayate's school. Most involved embarrassing each other, some good natured ribbing, and a few complaints about their 'impossible' work loads. It was funny, entertaining, but Toushiro found himself unable to completely relax and enjoy the afternoon.

It was while relating a few of his adventures that he realized why that was. Where his classmates had spoken of babbled attempts at asking girls out, or stink-bombs in class, or arguments between the soccer and baseball teams, his stories were much less lighthearted. He had stories of Allina and Niranjana contrasted with Yussef, Noriko and Laura. He had stories of Laura's pranks, and his and Ichigo's development of their reactive shield. He had stories of the Circles, and the raid on New Delhi. Despite their similar ages, he was years ahead of his classmates in terms of experiences and interests, with far more serious concerns. They struck him as dangerously naïve, but at the same time comfortingly innocent, a dichotomy that troubled his thoughts all the way home.

------------------------------

The next two weeks proved to be more of the same. He studied a little during the day, played some games, hung out in the afternoon with most of his old classmates, and found himself growing antsy. Studying what his PDA could access of the school's library produced questions, things he wanted to try, but without the workrooms, he was unwilling to risk doing anything with magic beyond what he was positive worked. In a similar vein, he had become used to the antics of his classmates and the interruptions of his teachers over the past year, and found adapting to the more calm, staid environment of his family's apartment to be enervating.

The situation with Miyuki, his older sister, did not help, either. While she had been home when he got home, she soon returned to what he determined had become her pattern while he was at school. She came home at highly variable hours, usually with homework done but sometimes without, did little to no studying at home, and was gone again first thing in the morning. She was still dressing mostly the same, but with more jewelry, more makeup, and more metal in general. Worst of all, she displayed a disrespectful and downright confrontational attitude towards their parents that was shocking when he first witnessed it, and infuriating as he saw it more and more often. His initial attempts to talk to her about it, find out what was going on and why she was changing from the quiet older sister he remembered, merely succeeded in transferring that attitude to him.

When he tried to bring it up with his parents, they were quite firm about telling him to let them handle it, which did not sit well with him, but left him no other option. So he decided to just keep an eye on things as best he could, and try to relax and enjoy his summer. It was easy enough to trust in his parents' belief that Miyuki would grow out of her rebellious 'phase' soon enough, given how the disparate people he had met in the last year had turned out.

His troubles with Miyuki were soon placed on a back burner in the face of a confusing matter that more directly affected him. Before he had left for Hayate's, he and his friends would hang out at any of a number of food stands, arcades, and the like, talking games and music, or whatever, just him and the guys. While he was no longer as close to them as he had felt before, and had earned much closer friends at the Academy, he still liked all of them, and at first was enjoying his afternoons hanging out.

Only now, as their summer vacation approached, it was not 'him and the guys'. It was 'him and the guys and a few new guys and some girls', in an ever changing rotation. Most of them were all right, if not who he was used to, and he managed a better job of talking to the girls than he would have the summer before or than his friends managed currently. But he could not for the life of him figure out why the new people were hanging around them, or why it was an ever changing parade. Kaneda insisted it was because he was 'famous', but Toushiro definitely disagreed. Yussef was famous, Laura was famous, Hayate-sensei and her Knights were famous. He was just there when things fell apart.

He was contemplating just that as he walked home from one such gathering, the last before his friends' summer vacation began, when his cell-phone went off unexpectedly. No one should have been calling him – his parents would not unless they came home and he was not there, Miyuki would not call him at all currently, and he had just left the guys. But when he fished the device out of his pocket, the display showed his mother's picture. Confused more than worried, he took the call, "Hi, 'Kaa-san, what's going on?"

"Shiro-chan? Where are you?"

Just the fact that she used his nickname told him something was wrong, and from her voice she was practically in tears. That set him on edge, making him tense up, fears of Circle kidnappings ballooning in his mind. "On my way home, couple blocks. Why?"

"Hurry," His mother said, "Miyuki's been in an accident, she's in the hospital. I'm home now, I'll wait for you, but hurry, please."

He was airborne before she even finished speaking, a short ballistic hop that had him pulling on the training device for the first time. From there, it was a fast, tense drive to the hospital, a brief argument with the admissions desk, and a hurried walk through sterile corridors. They found his father sitting in the ER waiting room, a picture of composure, save for his white-knuckled grip on his own hands.

He looked up as they approached, and stood to hug his wife. "She's in surgery," he told them softly, to avoid disturbing others in the room. "She was riding in a car that lost control in a turn, struck a bridge abutment. It was not very fast, but she was on the side that hit the bridge, and the vehicle was so lightly built..."

Waiting was incredibly difficult for Toushiro, sitting next to his parents with nothing to do but wait, no information, was just as bad as the night after the attack in February had been. He had no idea what to do and, worse, knew that anything he thought to try would be useless, at best. He had learned a lot in the past year, especially how to take action. But now he was stuck in a situation where waiting wall all he could do, where action was impossible.

What finally broke him out of the shock was the police officer who first arrived on the scene of the accident. He arrived to ask them some questions, mostly about Miyuki's 'friends', but also to let them know what had happened. "The car she was riding in was spotted outside an electronics store as it was being robbed," the officer said. "I do not have positive ID of any of the robbers, but none were female, so I doubt your daughter was one of them. But she must have been in the vehicle, which was used as a getaway car, and there were no signs of a fight at the cars. Witnesses to the accident have reported three people exiting the wreck and getting in the two other cars reported at the robbery. I'm sorry to put you through this now, but we need to locate whoever was in the vehicle with her."

"Ask at her high school," Toushiro told him, "they'll know who else was in the car. They're a motor gang, she's been hanging out with them for the past year or so. I don't know any names." _Except for one, and __I will know the rest soon, _he promised himself.

As soon as the officer left, Toushiro told his parents he was going to keep an eye on their apartment, and escaped the hospital. He used the flight home to plan, to think. _I'll need information,_ he knew immediately, _where they are, who they are. I'll need backup, and I'll need to keep any of the senseis from interrupting. Man, I wish Yussef was close enough to handle this for me._

Once he was home, he fished a pad of paper and pen out of his desk, and punched up an old number on his phone. "Oi, Hiei, it's Toushiro. Got a question for you, man. Those punks my sister's been hanging out with... where's their usual spot?"

Hiei snorted, then said, "Why would I know that, man? I don't want anything to do with that trash."

"You're my best bet," Toushiro replied, "and I don't know anyone in Miyuki's circles at her school. Listen, I know it's a long shot, but I need to know, fast. Before the cops find them."

Hiei was silent for a few moments after that, then sighed. "Damn, man, you're gonna get in trouble aren't you?"

"Probably."

"Don't suppose I could talk you into bringing me along?"

Toushiro chuckled, "not in a million years, man. These guys are going to find out what I learned last year, and I don't want anyone else getting burned for it."

"I'll call you back once I find out," Hiei said.

Once he hung up with Hiei, Toushiro tapped out another number. He could have used the communications spell, but the phone was in hand and ready. "Ichigo, it's Toushiro."

"Hence your name on the caller ID," the other boy replied, "What's up?" 

"I'm about to do something really stupid, and could use someone to watch my back. Think you could come down here for a couple days?"

Ichigo burst out laughing at that. "Damn, dude, why're you gonna do it if you know it's stupid?"

"To get the bastards that put my sister in a hospital," Toushiro said.

That got him a moment of dead silence. When he spoke again, Ichigo's voice was flatly serious. "I'll talk Mom and Dad into it, be down tomorrow. What station?"

Toushiro gave him the nearest station, and found himself staring at the phone debating his next call. _Better to do this first,_ he decided, _see if they'll do something to stop me._ This one was done by phone not because it as in his hand, but because he was uncertain who he should talk to first. It was also not a number he had ever thought he would be calling, so it took him a few minutes to actually find it on the various pieces of paperwork. Waiting through the three rings was incredibly nerve-wracking, until the other end picked up.

"It's the middle of the summer, gaki. What're you bothering us for, and why're you using a _phone_? Don't tell me you've already forgotten everything we taught you!"

"It's nice to talk to you, too, Vita-sensei," he said, amused despite himself.

"Yeah, hi, Shiro-kun," she said, "now stop trying to dodge my question."

"You know, most people say 'hi' first, they don't start shouting insults and demands."

"And most people don't bother their teachers over summer vacation! Are trying to tell me what to do?"

Toushiro had to struggle not to laugh, imagining the diminutive teacher shouting at the phone. "No, sensei, just appreciating your unique style of personal communication. Actually, I was just calling to give you guys fair warning, as it were. Ichigo's coming down tomorrow, we're going to do some more work on that reactive shield. Just don't want you to worry if the beacons go off. We're not getting attacked, just a little summer project." It was a thin hope at best, he knew, but he had to make some effort to keep his teachers from finding out. If he could at least keep them from arriving instantly, long enough to do the job, he would be satisfied with that.

Vita as not inclined to accede to that hope, however. She hummed to herself for a few seconds, and he could hear indistinct German he recognized as Graf Eisen speaking. "So, based on you being in a hospital not an hour ago, but you still being functional and coherent, I'd guess that someone in your family was injured, and you're going out for revenge, ne?"

Toushiro flinched at that, embarrassed at being so transparent. "No, not revenge," he said after a second. "I'm going to talk to them, convince them to do the right thing."

"With Ichigo as backup and plans to unleash some heavy magic? Why do I think you're lying to me?"

"Because you're a suspicious and paranoid individual, Vita-sensei." They both chuckled at that, before he continued, "I'm not going to claim pure motives, I want them to pay. But I'm not crazy, sensei. I'm not going to hurt anyone, and I'm not going to turn into one of them. I'm going to talk to them, in case the cops won't. Obvious as these punks are, they should've been busted a while ago. Instead, the cops had to ask us who they were at the hospital. So I'm going to convince them to hand themselves over."

"You don't trust your cops? Think that they'll all let these people have a pass? I thought Japan was supposed to be all law-abiding and stuff."

"Japan is," Toushiro told her, "specific Japanese are not, and there is always the matter of appearance, of face. Gangs like this tend to collect around a couple people who's parents have reputations to protect and the pull to do it. So the cops won't touch these punks. But if they turn themselves in, get all remorseful and the like, things will be fine."

"You're just going to talk? Then why bring in Ichigo and why try to scam us?"

"Because you and Yussef taught us to think ahead, sensei. I'm going to try to talk a bunch of arrogant punks into surrendering to the cops when they think they're untouchable. Things could get messy, and I wanted backup, but I don't want to involve the school. If things get violent, I'm not going to be swinging in the breeze all by my lonesome. Yussef put us through that, for one of the later exercises, and I'm _not _doing it again, thanks. So, Ichigo for backup, and an attempt to keep you guys from panicking."

Vita was quiet for a few moments, patently thinking it over, before she replied. "All right, we'll let you slide. But we'll keep an eye on you, Shiro-kun, and if you run into too much trouble, we'll pull you out of it anyhow. Don't start anything you can't finish."

"I won't," he promised, "I remember February too well."

He had one more contact to make, but the phone would not suffice for this. He put that away, and carefully shaped a communications spell, hoping he would not interrupt anything important. The spell completed, stabilized, and he said, "Hey, Yussef, you got a minute? I need some tactical advice."

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Toushiro was at the gates of his old school the next morning well before classes began. He nodded politely to the various greetings, but he was waiting for Hiei, and turned down the various attempts to start a conversation. When he saw the smaller boy approaching, Toushiro shoved off the wall and moved to intercept him, pulling him off to one side a few meters from the gates.

"Anything?"

Hiei grimaced, and nodded. "You want the good news or the bad news?"

"How about both?"

"The good news is, I know where they hang out. One of them is the son of a garage owner, guy owns like fifteen or twenty, and he lets his boy have the run of this one a few blocks down. No staff, they do all their own work, but the place is theirs so long as they don't do anything illegal there. Illegal stuff elsewhere is apparently not Daddy's concern."

"That's actually very good news," Toushiro said. He had been worried that the gang would hang out at a bar or restaurant or something, maybe a mall – someplace with bystanders. If they had a garage all their own, no one else would be hanging about, and he would not have to worry as much about passers-by. "What's the bad news?"

"The bad news is that Yamada Kaoru's father is Yamada Yasui, the Prefect chief of police," Hiei hissed, "and his son met his two best friends at a departmental picnic! Matsumoto and Young-Ji, Kaoru's best friends in the gang, are the sons of two detectives."

"So the cops won't touch them," Toushiro said, "not even for this."

"Oh, they'll get yelled at, at home, maybe grounded for a few months," Hiei said, "but officially? Nothing. No cop who wants to keep his job's going to lay a finger on them."

"Not unless they hand themselves over," Toushiro countered. "Is Kaneda's father still a cop?"

"Yeah, I think he is. Why?"

Toushiro just grinned at him, then turned to watch the passing students again. Kaneda came over when he saw Toushiro's wave, bringing Sado with him. "Kaneda, your father's still police, right?"

Kaneda nodded, looking a little confused. "Yeah, he got a promotion a couple months ago and hasn't stopped whining about it since. He's running a desk now, never gets to actually go out and make an arrest."

"What's his phone number?"

Kaneda blinked at him, even more confused now than he had been. "Uh, why?"

"So I can hand him some petty crooks on a silver platter," Toushiro answered. "I'm working things out as I go along, and I want to be sure whoever I call at the police will actually do something. Your dad's perfect. What's his number?"

Once he had Kaneda's father's number, and the address from Hiei, Toushiro had to spend another ten minutes arguing with the guys. They wanted to go along, lend a hand, and he had to talk fast and play dirty to convince them not to. He was not at all certain he was going to get out of this unscathed himself, and he had no wish to involve anyone else, especially friends who did not have magic to back them up.

Shortly before lunch, he met Ichigo at the station. They grabbed lunch there, then left the station headed for the punks' garage, discussing how they were going to go about 'talking' to the gang. Toushiro filled in Ichigo on everything Vita had told him, and Yussef's suggestions for how to handle things. It took the better part of half an hour to get down there, but the place was empty when they arrived.

The building was not a substantial one. The lot was completely paved, set in the middle of the block, with a warehouse to one side and a run-down office building to the other. The garage itself was set sideways in the lot, backing up against the warehouse, a small office area at street-side, with a two-car garage behind that. The garage doors were locked down, as was the door to the office, but a side door in the back was improperly seated in its lock, allowing them entrance.

Inside was a typical mess, though not as bad as Toushiro expected. There were the usual grease, oil, and gas stains, but there were no piles of parts or strewn tools. Everything was neatly put away, both tools and parts, in a fairly obvious organization. Even the eclectic collection of electronics up on the overhang behind the mufflers was neatly stacked and politely covered by a tarp. The office space was a little closer to expectation, stocked with sodas and junk-food, even a couple cots in the back.

"This place is going to be a pain to assault," Ichigo commented. "Lots of ways in and out, lots of things they can use for weapons, lots of distractions."

"We're not assaulting, we're talking," Toushiro reminded him.

"Tche, like these punks are going to listen," Ichigo shook his head and wrenched open a bag of chips. "They'll get snotty, we'll get defensive, they'll try to throw us out, you'll lose your temper, the fight begins."

"If it goes that far, let me do all the fighting," Toushiro said. "I've got a reason, one the authorities will accept and probably let me off the hook for."

"I'm here to watch your back," Ichigo countered, "and that's what I'll do. You can do the heavy lifting, but I'll hold up my end. How are we going to handle this?"

"We'll let them in, let them get settled, then confront them. I don't want them running away before I'm done with them."

"You realize how crazy that sounds?" Ichigo was grinning, twirling one finger around as it pointed at his temple. "You're worried about a group of eight – maybe nine or ten – teenagers _running away _from a couple middle-schoolers."

Toushiro grinned back, seeing the humor quite easily. "Nope. I'm worried about a bunch of punk civilians running away from a pair of Myrmidons. Come on, let's go set ourselves up someplace they won't notice but close enough for us to see."

'Someplace' proved to be across the street at another warehouse. They had to wait for a while, and it took Toushiro a couple hours to realize why. The gang was not worried about being arrested, so instead of hiding out, they had simply _gone to school_. It was not until after class had let out that the two souped up racers came screaming around the corner, tires squealing as they took the turn into the lot at speed. The two boys watched as passengers got out and opened the garage doors, the cars were driven in, and the doors rolled back down.

"Well, looks like it's time," Toushiro said, stepping out from behind the pillar they had used for cover.

Ichigo grabbed his arm, "Hold up."

Toushiro gave him a curious look then, at his gesture, looked back up the street. Following the same course as the racers was a heavy town-car, rolling slowly past the garage before parking just shy of the next street corner. Its engine shut off, but none of the people they could see inside made any move to get out.

Toushiro considered them for a few seconds, then shook his head. "Ignore them for now. Whoever they are, they just mean we're under a time limit."

They trotted across the street, and Ichigo fell into step behind Toushiro's right side. He saw some motion in the office area, then one of the blinds kinked as someone looked out. None of the doors opened, however, so he continued walking until he was even with the first of the garage doors, and rapped on it twice with his fist.

A panel flipped open, about head height, but he could not see who was behind it. "Take a hike, kid. Your betters are busy."

"I'm here to talk to Kaoru," Toushiro said, "and his flunkies. You trash can open this door, or I will."

"Ha! Piss off, punk. We're not interested, go pretend to be tough somewhere else." The port slammed shut, and laughter sounded within.

Toushiro sighed, and started to reach for his magic, when Ichigo stopped him. "Let me, man. Something Laura showed me." Ichigo put his hand on the door, very gently, and Toushiro felt the power flowing through his training device, felt it focus on a single point in the door, and Ichigo called out, "Jupiter's Fist!" The door crumpled up like a piece of paper, collapsing in on itself with a shrieking snapping cacophony, before the tennis-ball sized mass thunked to pavement, rolling off to one side as everyone inside stared at it in shock.

"Nice," Toushiro complimented, patting Ichigo's shoulder, "you'll have to show me that one."

"Easier than it looks," Ichigo said, "but it takes a crap-load of power."

One of the punks finally got over their shock, shouting, "Hey! You asshole's are going to pay for that!"

"No," Toushiro said, stepping in front of Ichigo again, "you are going to."

"Who the fuck are you?" The one doing all the shouting was the most obvious punk of the bunch, already missing his school uniform, half-changed into a racer's bodysuit, short hair dyed a florescent green and spiked chaotically.

"Senizawa Toushiro. And you?"

"Fuck do you care, punk? You're not gonna be conscious long enough to remember! I recognize the name, though. Miyuki's little brother. What, are you mad at us 'cause she's hurt? Thinkin' you'll get some kinda payback? Please, you don't have the balls. Miyuki had shit luck, that's all."

Toushiro shook his head sadly, "You do not understand. One of you was driving the car my sister was riding in last night, one of you put my sister in the hospital, all of you share responsibility for the incident that caused her injuries. You are thieves, trash, and a threat to decent people. But you are not irredeemable. I will give you this one and only chance to surrender yourselves to the authorities and confess your crimes, or kami help me, I will end you all."

"Hah! You can't do a damn thing to us, punk!" The green-haired boy slammed a hand into an open drawer, and whipped it out to throw a wrench at Toushiro. The length of steel slammed to a halt a good meter short of its target in a glowing flash, bouncing off Ichigo's shield, causing the gang to freeze, watching him with uncomprehending stares.

Toushiro let them see his smile as he brought up both hands, cupping the wrists together, aiming them at his green-haired enemy. "Buster Cannon." The charge built in his hands, channeled through the training device, and he could feel it singing under his control. He let it grow, thought not to its maximum, watching as the punks started to back away with wide eyes, then shifted aim ever so slightly. "Fire!"

The long bolt was far from the ragged mass he had let loose that first day in Lotte-sensei's class, a clean coherent rod of deepest green with vastly more power behind it. The strike launched from his hands through a temporary gap in Ichigo's shield to pierce the door of one car at an angle, before coring the engine block and expending its last remaining energy scorching the rear wall of the garage.

They did not like that, and rage finally overcame their confusion and surprise. Four of them charged at him with a wordless shriek, and he had to stumble back. The drain from that Buster Cannon was a surprise, worse than he had expected, and it took him a second to recover. By the time he did, the four were wailing on Ichigo's shield, and the rest of the gang was fleeing out through the office.

"Ichigo," Toushiro gasped, recovering from the drain and pulling power through his device again, "when I say, drop your shield completely."

"Dude..."

"Need the field of fire!" He brought up one hand, the gem on his wrist-band glowing brightly as the power built in his clenched fist. "Shotgun!" Ichigo's shield vanished, and Toushiro shouted, "_Fire_!"

The burst that left his hand was radically different from the preceding attack spell, a massive spray of smaller bolts instead of a single coherent strike, guided only in the sense that they did not come back at him and Ichigo. None of them was very powerful – he could hit harder with his bare fist – but they were so numerous that each of those attacking him was caught by ten to fifteen or more. The cumulative impact stopped their charge cold and sent them tumbling back with pained cries.

The drain of two powerful attacks in such close timing left Toushiro panting, and he had to stop for a second, leaning one hand against the door frame. The gang members he had hit took longer to recover, groaning and mumbling incoherently. Before they regained their senses, he stepped into the garage itself, and sent another Buster Cannon through the engine block of the second car. Once that was done, he went to the closest of the gang members, planted his foot on the boy's chest, and leaned an elbow on that knee.

"Which of you is Yamada Kaoru?"

The boy under him coughed, but pointed to fellow just now sitting up, massaging an already-forming bruise on the side of his head. Toushiro stepped over his informant, walking over to stand in front of Kaoru, hanging his hands in the pockets of his jeans. It took the older boy a moment to realize he was there, at which point he looked up and froze.

"I'm fully aware of your family connections," Toushiro said softly, "and I couldn't care less. You are a threat to my family, to my friends, and to the people of this city. Your disruptive behavior and callous disregard for the safety of others makes you an enemy of all society. You have brought shame upon your family, all your families. Your only option to cleanse this stain is to own up to that behavior, to separate your actions from your families, to behave like the men you claim to be."

"W... what are you talking about?"

"You are thieves and ruffians, barbarians worse than any gaijin. But you could prove yourselves to be Japanese, to remember and be worthy of the honor and spirit of your ancestors. Show society your willingness to pay for your crimes, to make amends, and just perhaps, you might one day truly earn the right to be called 'men'." Toushiro brought out his cell phone, flipping it open. "I'm going to call the police. They will be here ten minutes after that. If you are still here, if you surrender to them, me and mine will leave you in peace. If you don't," He leaned over then, getting right in Kaoru's face, "you will wish you had been in the passenger seat last night instead of my sister."

Green-hair spoke up again, leaning on one of the cars holding his ribs, but still sneering. "We've got you for assault," he threatened, "the cops show up here, _you're _the one they'll arrest."

Toushiro smiled at him arrogantly. "You think so? Are you really going to admit that ten to fifteen seventeen to eighteen year olds got their asses kicked by a pair of fourteen year olds? Are you really going to admit that to the cops? Go ahead, tell them. Tell them that a pair of middle-schoolers just blew a whole through two engine blocks and crushed a garage door like a beer-can. Tell them you couldn't lay a finger on us, that we left by taking to the sky on wings of thought. Even if they believe you, think about what we're like, who we are. You think your families keep you safe? The whole of Japan keeps us safe."

He and Ichigo were airborne a minute later, arcing over the neighboring office building. They landed on the far roof, where Toushiro placed a call. "Fukuoka-san, this is Senizawa Toushiro, one of your son Kaneda's friends. The gang responsible for the electronics robbery last night and resultant accident? I talked them into turning themselves in, but you're going to have to send someone to pick them up. They argued about it among themselves and wrecked their cars."

------------------------------

When he and Ichigo got to the hospital, they found his parents quietly ecstatic as they went through the process of discharging Miyuki. The doctors were trying to convince them to stay longer, to study her 'miraculous recovery', but none of the family wanted to stay there any longer than absolutely necessary.

The two boys stopped just inside the waiting area, instead of approaching the family at the nurse's station. "Thank you, Shamal-sensei," Toushrio whispered, "I can't ever repay you."

"I did not do much, just enough to stabilize her and clear her to go home. As for a debt, do not worry about it," she said, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "This is how we work. We do things for each other, look out for each other, just as you look out for your parents and sister. That is what we try to teach you at school, and what you were apparently trying to do earlier this afternoon. How did that go, by the way?"

"Not bad," Ichigo said, "we barely had to touch any of them, nothing but bumps and bruises. Lot of property damage, though."

Shamal looked them over, and quirked one eyebrow. "Was it necessary?"

"I don't know," Toushiro admitted reluctantly, "I don't know. No one would have taken them on until they killed someone, but did I have to rough them up? Did I have to destroy their cars and risk assault charges of my own? I think it was the right thing to do, and I didn't do any permanent injuries, not like they did. But was it necessary? I don't know."

Shamal nodded slowly. "Good. It would have been safer all around to simply approach the police. They could have been convinced to arrest them no matter who they had as patrons. This will, no doubt, secure more lasting results, and certainly their families' influences will be less effective at blunting its effects, but it was more dangerous."

"I know."

"Good, then you should keep until Zafira can talk to you. He'll be by later in the week, to see both of you. For now, you should probably help your family, Shiro-kun."

The gravity of the situation, the repercussions of what he and Ichigo had just done, faded to the back of Toushiro's mind. She was still hurt, still in a wheelchair, and would be for months as her legs healed, but his sister was safe, and he had made sure of that.

------------------------------

A week later, Miyuki was back to her rebellious self, though confined by stairs to their floor of the apartment building. Toushiro was back to meeting his friends after school, this time mostly to get away from Miyuki's harping. Her erstwhile 'friends' were out of jail, but facing a variety of charges beyond those he was aware of, and going to great lengths to make themselves invisible. Most of them had apparently taken his warning very seriously and fessed up to a variety of similar crimes the gang had indulged in over the past months. Those who did not take his warning seriously were done in to by those who did. Whichever part they belonged to, they were studiously avoiding Miyuki, and she blamed Toushiro, once word reached her of the rumors spreading through the area's younger generation.

Ichigo stuck around for an extra day, meeting most of Toushiro's old friends. It was a fun afternoon, even if Ichigo and Urashima got in an argument about America's role in precipitating World War Two. The rest of them let it run for a while, before Sado interrupted with an offer to have them settle the argument by means of a duel, which only precipitated another, all-inclusive, argument, over whether the duel should be fought with swords, as Urashima insisted was traditional, or with pistols at high noon on an open street, as Ichigo preferred.

A week later, when the guys gathered for an afternoon arcade run, Hiei handed Toushiro a letter. "Don't open it here, don't let anyone else read it. My uncle told me it was personal for you, and no one else's business." Curious but not sensing anything amiss with the unmarked envelope, Toushiro agreed, pocketed it, and forgot about it until that evening. Expecting some sort of repercussion for his handling of Miyuki's former friends, he was surprised at just how right he was.

_Senizawa-san,_

_My nephew informs me that you are responsible for cleaning up the trash your sister once associated with. You have my thanks, and the thanks of my organization, for that. The owners of the shops they have terrorized these past months have also requested that I pass on their thanks. The last shop the trash chose to conduct their thievery at was under our protection, and the entire incident was quite embarrassing for us. We had intended to deal with them ourselves, however your intervention provided satisfactory resolution without the attendant political, legal, and publicity problems._

_I am well aware of my organization's reputation, both its deserved common reputation and the unfortunate portrayals in popular media, so I understand if you gave no thought to our presence or involvement. I will also understand, for similar reasons, if you choose never to pursue the offer I am about to make. Honor requires that the offer be made, however, so I ask only that you give it due consideration._

_You have, through no expectation of reward or ulterior motive beyond protection of your own, done my organization a small but valuable favor. As such, as the leader of my organization, I must offer you the same in return. Should you ever require assistance outside of your usual, no doubt extensive, resources, please feel free to call on me. Hiei will have my number._

_Again, my thanks for your efforts,_

_Oyabun Meido._

------------------------------

Author's Note: 'Oyabun' translates to English as, roughly 'boss', and is a common reference to high ranking and/or authoritative members of the Yakusa.


	10. 10 Sound and Fury

**Sound and Fury**

An Academy Blues Side Story

By Daishi Prime

Setting Note: This takes place during the school's summer break, after the first year.

--

Juliet was honestly nervous as she stepped out of the car Saturday morning, slinging her backpack on her shoulder and glaring around, She was not nervous about her appearance, or behavior, or what was going to happen, but rather nervous about where, precisely, the attack would come from. Despite that, she was doing her best not to show any nerves or fear. Allison had given her some pointers, and Vita had taught by example, and with their lessons she managed to project confident belligerence closer to her usual attitude, certainly enough to fool everyone but her parents.

"Relax, Juliet," her mother told her, resting a hand on her shoulder, "This is just a weekend, not forever. Though... I do wish you would consider it. It is much closer to home."

"But they won't protect Hayate-sensei," Juliet countered, "or my friends. They can't help me build a device, either, or stand up to the Circles." She left out the arguments on trust and reliability, her parents had already made clear they were ignoring those.

"I guess," and just like that the almost-argument was over again, though Juliet knew it would be coming up again. Her mother turned towards the young man trotting down the steps, moving to stand next to Juliet's father at the front of their car.

Juliet let it go, taking the opportunity to study the ranch instead, looking more for ways out than anything else. There were several buildings around the main ranch house, two and three stories. Two were obvious bunk houses, another a storehouse and garage, and one that she guessed was the actual 'school' from the faint tingle of magic and the sense of deadness that indicated shields. A water tower capped by a windmill stood behind one bunkhouse, and a low fence separated the compound from the open land of the ranch proper. All of it manifestly old, and all of it very well maintained.

"Ah, Mister and Missus Van Saar, welcome to my family's ranch." Juliet's gaze snapped over to the main house's porch, to see a fit young man about Hayate's age, dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt, trotting down the steps towards them, one hand already extended to greet his guests. "My name is Themba Ndebele, my grandfather asked me to welcome you to our family's school." He was all smiles, and showed not the slightest tick or twitch at shaking hands with a white man, nor did he hesitate when he moved to greet Juliet's mother. It was only when he turned to Juliet that he hesitated, and then wisely chose to sketch a bow rather than coming within arm's reach of her. "And welcome to you, as well, Juliet. My grandfather spent quite a lot of time grumbling about you in January. A high compliment, coming from him, I assure you."

Juliet doubted that, but nodded anyhow. She had not been happy when her parents agreed to this little trip, to put it mildly. It had been one of the more titanic rows she had gotten into with her mother, utterly ruining her first day home for the summer. But she was here now, so she would have to be some semblance of polite, and especially wary. After the Circles, she would not put it past these people to try and kidnap her while she was here. Not that they would succeed, but it would be terribly embarrassing to have to call her teachers for help dealing with mages who were effectively her neighbors.

Themba waited a few seconds for her to actually respond, before his smile became a little fixed, but Naledi stepped into the gap, "Could you show us around?"

"Certainly," Themba answered her with a smile, "Come, this way. We'll get you settled, then take a look around. Normally, I handle classes, but Grandfather is teaching a at the moment, and I'm not sure when he will finish, it would be better to not interrupt him."

Juliet grimaced at that, she was less than interested in anything here, but followed along dutifully enough. Themba once again proved observant enough – and diplomatic enough – not to try and show her around with her parents following, but to show her parents around and let her bring up the rear. Juliet half-listened as he rambled on about the ranch's history, about the generations of African Shaman trained within its confines and the grand traditions it maintained. The rest of her attention was watching around her, eyes tracking down every person visible and a few who were not, while she fiddled with the silver pendant of her training device. She was not sure if enough time had passed for it to bond to her, given the lack of time to experiment with it, but she had thought she felt something, and hoped it would be available if she needed it here.

The ranch proved just as mundane and boring as she had feared, and there were no surprises at all in the place. Themba showed them to the two rooms they would be using in the main house, then past the barracks and workhouses. Despite the ranch's status as Shaman Ndebele's school, it remained a working ranch, mostly raising local cattle. Themba even offered to find a pair of horses for Juliet's parents while she was 'otherwise occupied'.

Finally, however, he could no longer put off showing them what they were really here for. Cautioning them to stay quiet, Themba carefully opened the door, stuck his head in, looked for a minute, then waved them in behind him. While she had been trailing along behind before, Juliet cut her father off without a second thought, wrapping herself in a static shield before extending a larger one to protect her parents. It was difficult, even without having to maintain control or connection to her personal shield, but she could manage it for a while.

Inside, she found a prosaically simple room. The entire inside of the small building, maybe ten meters on a side, was a single room, even up to the gently sloped roof. The only windows were in the ceiling and the back wall with the door, while the other three walls were covered in blackboards, themselves covered in chalk diagrams and notes. A large oak desk was set into one of the far corners of the room, with a computer filling one end of it, while six student desks were arranged in parallel rows of three facing the back wall, five of them occupied. Shaman Ndebele himself was holding forth from the space between the students and the rear wall, only talking at the moment, and his students appeared to be completely engrossed in what he was telling them. The Shaman appeared equally oblivious to his new watchers.

Juliet did not believe that impression for a moment. As she moved slowly to clear the door and finally let her parents in, she could feel his attention on her, itching between her shoulder blades. She tried to ignore him and, once her initial worries about an immediate attempt abated, relaxed her shields in favor of scanning the room carefully, looking for the trap she suspected to be hidden here somewhere. She was quiet about it, as subtle as she could be, but the cessation of magical senses as she crossed the threshold, while not as complete as in Hayate's workrooms, was worsening her nerves.

Her scanning finally drew a negative comment from Themba, who leaned down to mutter in her ear, "that is extremely disrespectful, Juliet, please desist."

"When I'm sure the old man isn't going to try something," she muttered back. She felt him start in surprise at that, thinking, _I wonder if anyone my age has ever had the guts to talk back to him? Probably not, it'll be good for him._

Her ruminations were brought to an end by Ndebele's voice, "... and there, boys, we have a shining example of foreign standards. She is evincing excellent control, significant power, advanced structures, and a complete and utter lack of manners."

"Ah, I'm sorry about that, sir," her father apologized, "I didn't realize she was doing anything."

Juliet let the implied chastisement and matching frown roll off her back, focusing on the shaman. "What's the matter, Shaman? Something to hide? Something you don't want me finding until after it hits?"

He chuckled, flashing a blinding smile, "Not at all, child, not at all. But it's rude to interrupt a class, and ruder still to run scans on someone else's home and business without their permission. You'd be surprised what you can get away with, when you ask first."

"You'd be surprised what people try to hide under false honesty," Juliet shot back.

Her father snapped at her for that, "Juliet! Watch your tone, young lady."

The Shaman continued to smile, just raised one eyebrow and asked, "Please tell me, child, precisely what have I done to earn your ire?"

"Oh, I don't know, how 'bout showing up at my parents house, scaring them silly, and spouting off some crap about how I belong to you because I'm half black? How about scamming my mother into dragging me out here over my objections? How about the games you were playing with Hayate-sensei back in November? You've done nothing to earn my trust, and every time I've heard anything about you, it's been tricks hidden by games hidden by threats. So you'll forgive me if I'm not willing to trust my own or my parents' safety to your 'good intentions'."

His smile faded to an outright smirk, "Good, you still have that spine. A little paranoid, but so much the better." He turned his attention back to his students, face becoming serious, clapping his hands once, "Well, now that that's dealt with, boys, this is Juliet Van Saar, one of the Japanese woman's students I was telling you about this morning. Juliet, these are our current crop of students. Mandla, Nelson, Morgan, Alsenio, Salim, and Idi. Do be polite, all of you, there is far too much for you to learn from each other to waste time whining."

All of the boys looked doubtful, but nodded politely, except for Mandla. He gave her a long look, then muttered something to Alsenio sitting next to him. Alsenio started, looking torn between shock and laughter, and Juliet felt a spike of rage as they shared a joke at her expense. "It's rude to insult someone in a language they don't understand," she snapped. "If you aren't man enough to insult me to my face, don't you dare insult me at all."

"He did not insult you," Ndebele said, "actually, from what I caught, it was quite the compliment. He thinks you're cute."

Juliet blinked at that, then sneered. 'Cute' was not and never had been anything she was interested in being. 'Cute' was what people in her old school called someone too stupid or too clutzy to be anything else, but too nice or too rich to be properly insulted. 'Cute' meant useless, defenseless, and she was now far from that. "We'll see if he still thinks that after I wipe the floor with him," she said, careful to keep it in Japanese.

Ndebele replied in the same language, "Are you so certain you could defeat him?" Juliet glared, but he waved that away, "languages are a simple matter of understanding, child, and can be magically translated, just as your teachers no doubt did for you. Are you really so certain you could defeat Mandla?"

"I'll take any of them," Juliet challenged.

His smile re-appeared, "Good, I was looking forward that." He switched out of Japanese, "Mandla, you and Juliet follow me. Boys, come along, I think you'll find this educational."

Juliet followed, her parents right behind. To her surprise, it was her father, not her mother who leaned over to whisper, "Juliet, I know you don't want to be here, but that is no excuse to be so rude. We are their guests, and they have been very kind in inviting us here. I know you don't trust them, but your teachers cleared them, we have no issues with them, I fail to see why you do."

"Because he's up to something," Juliet muttered back.

"That is your overactive imagination," her father countered. "You need to learn that not everyone is an enemy, Juliet. The Shaman has offered to teach you, under no obligations. Consider what trouble that is putting him to, before you go panicking over what he isn't doing."

Juliet followed the Shaman out, then to the middle of the square in front of the ranch house. She tried to studiously ignore Mandla, but he was not so reserved, blatantly looking her over in a manner that made her distinctly uncomfortable. When Ndebele stopped in the center of the yard, she stopped as well, hands in the pocket of her jacket, and quirked an eyebrow, "so what now?"

"Now, we'll see if you can do what you claim," the Shaman replied, and gestured past her. "You see the tree line? A mile from here, that is, over open country. You see the tallest tree? The one different from the rest?" There was a distinctly different tree, one that rose a little over the canopy, a sharp point compared with the rough rounded structures around it, so Juliet nodded. "Bring me a leaf from that tree, before Mandla does, and I'll believe your claims. No magic, no interfering with each other, just the speed of your legs and the determination of your will. Go."

Juliet blinked a little surprised at the abruptness of it, but Mandla reacted instantly, taking off from a standing start at a fast run. Juliet watched him for a couple seconds, long enough to watch him reach the split-rail fence and scrabble over the top beam. Then she shook her head, and started after him, moving at a slower, steadier pace, running, but conserving her energy. She stepped through the fence, between the upper and lower rails, saving herself energy and splinters, before resuming her steady pace.

00000

Johan stepped up next to the Shaman, watching Juliet as she loped out into the fields, feeling Naledi take his hand. His wife had never liked it when Juliet got into any sort of fight, worried that she would get hurt – justifiably given how often Juliet came home with bruises and scrapes. Their daughter claimed to have won most of those fights, but neither he nor his wife ever quite believed her. In this case, Johan was less worried, given the relative innocuousness of a race, and more aggravated at Juliet's recalcitrant attitude, but also curious. "If I may, Shaman, I would like to apologize for Juliet. She has always had problems with people her own age, and I'm afraid that's spilling over on to you."

Ndebele gave him an easy smile, "Don't worry about it, Johan, I'm used to far worse, from people with less excuse or who should know better. Everyone else around here is always so accommodating and polite, it's actually strangely refreshing to encounter someone not terrified of giving offense. If she truly oversteps her bounds, I will let her know."

Johan nodded slowly, then gestured towards the pair of running children, Juliet slowly gaining on Mandla. "If I may, what is the purpose of this?"

Ndebele laughed, "Education! Without magic, there is only one way to reach that tree, and retrieve a leaf – to be utterly at peace, set aside all emotion. I'm curious to see if she can figure it out, though Mandla will show her, just by doing it. He's run this before, though he's showing off right now." The smile became an amused smirk, "Also, the run will tire her out, burn off some of her energy and temper, and remind Mandla not to talk out of turn in class."

"So many lessons at once, are you sure they will notice all of them?"

"If not, they will learn them again," Ndebele laughed, "kids, all they have is time, yet they've not the patience to appreciate it!" The three of them shared a laugh at the old truism, but the Shaman turned serious after a few moments. "There is one thing, a trial my students endure. It does no physical harm, and no mental harm beyond a few unpleasant dreams, but it does reveal a great deal of their character to them. I am quite aware of the make up of her character, but she needs that awareness, especially given what she is learning in Japan. I myself endure the same trial every year, though not all my mages choose to. I assure you it is safe, but... it is unpleasant, even to watch."

"We trust you, Shaman," Naledi replied immediately, "Juliet will, too, if you give her the chance."

Johan was less certain, asking, "You are certain she would be in no danger?"

Ndebele nodded, "as certain as humanly possible As I said, my own students have undergone this trial. The worst effects are occasional nightmares, especially the first few nights."

"What is this trial, exactly?" 

Ndebele gave him a studying look for a few moments, then shrugged, "Normally, since you aren't undergoing it, you would not be privy to that information. The fact that we can do this is not something we advertise, given the acquisitive nature of certain mages outside of Africa. But in this case, given the oddities... the trial involves a series of personal illusions, a mental journey, wherein you confront yourself, as you are and as you will become. None of it predicts the future, you understand, and none of it is visible or comprehensible to anyone outside the vision, but it is still an accurate, and difficult, trial. Most human beings never really understand themselves, never face their own failings. For someone with such skills and power as I teach, such personal blindness is impermissible."

Johan nodded, but did not answer immediately, instead thinking it over, debating it. That debate was interrupted a few minutes later by a brilliant flash on the distance, and a series of gasps from those around him. When he looked up, he could still see a fading shimmer around the distant tree, shocked looks on almost everyone's faces, and the first hint of anger in the Shaman's countenance. "What happened?" 

"Juliet just violated the rules of the race," Ndebele said slowly, "and destroyed a hundred and fifty year old ward. Themba, go check to see how badly damaged it is. Mister and Missus Van Saar, please retire to the porch."

00000

Juliet had passed Mandla on the outbound leg, his wind fading from a too-fast start, but had refrained from commenting. A simple victory would do all her gloating for her, in something this mundane. The ward at the tree had been a surprise, giving her pause for a few seconds. Then the realization that Ndebele was not sticking to his own 'no magic' rule pissed her right off, and she found the training device was bonded to her, well enough to provide sufficient energy to shatter the ward. She snagged a leaf from a low-hanging branch, and almost decided to fly back.

Energy kept her from doing that, namely the desire to keep as much of it on hand as she could, for when the Shaman attempted whatever it was he was planning. So she jogged back, using a little energy on the return leg as Natalia had shown her to take the edge of her tiredness. She could not help smirking just a little as she passed Mandla, finding his shocked expression amusing. The glare Themba gave her as he passed was less than intimidating, though more aggravating than amusing. _If they didn't want me to cheat, they shouldn't have cheated,_ she reminded herself.

Once she was through the fence, she became a little nervous when she did not immediately see her parents, but finding them standing next to the door of the house calmed that worry, which left dealing with the Shaman. _He_ was standing precisely where she had left him, hands folded atop his cane, glaring at her fiercely. She dropped to a walk once she was through the fence, using that to cool down, and once within arms reach held out the leaf.

Ndebele looked at it like she was holding out a dead rat, then swatted it away. "I told you not to use magic. You just destroyed..."

"You break your own rules, they no longer hold me," Juliet snapped back. "You said no magic, yet the ward on that tree stank to high heaven of your mumbo jumbo. What, did you think it would be funny, making the silly girl fumble around with the prize just out of her reach? Or did you enjoy the idea of me coming back here empty handed? Sorry to disappoint, old man, but I'm not going to oblige you."

"The test was one of emotional control," Ndebele said, "a test you _failed_."

Juliet smiled at that, "Ask me if I care."

"You also destroyed a carefully crafted ward, built by my great grandfather, maintained by his sons, and their sons, all the way down to my own great grandson. The work of centuries, and you obliterated it in a fit of pique. How very white of you."

The blood was suddenly pounding in her ears, and Juliet's vision narrowed to the Shaman's face. She could feel herself shaking with rage and the need to lash out at him, and very nearly did just that. But she damped it down, forcing the anger and hatred into the back of her mind, before snarling, "Judging me by your own selfish standards. How very _African_. You tried to play by your rules. Too bad for you, I only play by mine. Are we done here?"

"No," Ndebele answered. "You have far too much rage in you, girl. Your spine I admire, the rage I do not. We will work on that. Behind the house is a wood pile, and an ax. Split the logs into quarters, I will tell you when to stop."

Juliet laughed, "Like hell I will. I'm not one of your lackeys, old man."

"You will do as you are told, or you will do without food. A simple axiom, the beginnings of discipline."

Juliet just snorted, and walked away, heading for the porch. She could tell her parents were just as angry as the Shaman, but at that point, did not care. He had coerced her parents into dragging her out here, against her will, then set her up for a fall, and had the gall to be pissed when she escaped his trap. He could be as angry as he wanted, she would be damned before she gave him the satisfaction of obedience. But she could tell he had her parents fooled, and knew she was in trouble with them before she even reached them.

Her mother got to her first, "What did he tell you to do?" 

"Chop wood."

"Why aren't you doing it? You broke his rules, insulted him deeply! You should be trying to make amends!"

Juliet stared at her mother for a moment, then looked away, "You want his good will? You want him to somehow make you 'pure' again? _You_ earn his good will. Me? I'm interested in keeping us safe, and away from backstabbing has-beens like him."

She turned away again, and stalked off before her anger could make her say something worse, heading around the back of the house. Distaste or not, she was not quite willing to disobey her parents, so she found the wood pile, quite easily, four meters long by one and a half high, roughly, varying sizes. It took her half an hour to delicately lace the wood with lines of power, then detonate them all simultaneously. The explosion was loud enough to scare birds in nearby fields into flight, sending dirt and splinters everywhere in a cloud that covered the back of the house.

Juliet did not wait for that to settle, but took to the air, launching herself in a high arcing course. She needed to be somewhere else, somewhere away from the Shaman and his demands, and her parents' expectations, and she was damned if she would give him the satisfaction of hanging around all day.

She returned as evening was falling, half-hoping that her parents would have taken her departure as a sign to leave themselves. But the family car was still there, and she could see her parents sitting on the porch, talking with the Shaman and a few of the other adults at the ranch. Juliet ignored them, stomping up the steps, until she heard Ndebele's voice, "There's some left overs in the kitchen, help yourself."

She stopped, turning slowly to glare at him. "I already ate."

He quirked one eyebrow, "Where? There's no place within a hundred kilometers of here that would feed a stranger."

"Hundred kilometers an hour, old man," she smirked. "You ever gone that fast? I can do that easy, these days." True, so long as she had the training device, but what she said next was boasting plain and simple, "could probably double that, if I bothered pushing it. Even if I hadn't, I'm not touching anything you provide. Mom, Dad, I'll see you in the morning."

00000

Juliet's dreams that night were strange, disconnected, recognizable as false yet ringing of disturbing truth. Images dark and bloody filled them, cities burning, people dying, and always the sound of laughter, hideous and insane. The sights and sounds, the stench and terror, surrounded her, beating at her from all directions. She knew she was dream, knew it was not real, but could not escape, could not find anyplace that was not burning or bleeding.

The dreams flowed endlessly, playing out like scenes in a movie, but never ending, one fading into the next in steady, worsening parade. Indistinct places became her childhood haunts, blasted and devastated. Featureless bodies became childhood tormentors, broken and slaughtered. Insane laughter became a ranting, rage-filled voice proclaiming its vengeance and crying for more.

The dream reached its sharpest as Juliet watched a woman striding away from her, through her neighborhood, ignoring the burning houses and shattered bodies, a jaunty bounce to her steps as she swung a heavy bag back and forth. The dream followed the woman along, to the top of the hill, where a man cloaked in smoke slowly resolved into the Shaman. The woman went to one knee before him, and Juliet finally saw her face, realizing it was an older version of herself. No words were exchanged, the woman merely reached into the bag, looking up to return the Shaman's victorious smile with a maniacal grin of her own, then drew out a severed head.

Her father's severed head.

Juliet woke up screaming, thrashing wildly for a second, desperate to deny the dream, to escape it. She felt a tingle of fading magic around her, sensed a presence in motion, and tried to get away from them and escape the entangling sheet at the same time.

"Calmly, Juliet, calmly," a voice soothed in Japanese, "you're safe, Juliet, it's over, you're safe."

The calm voice cut through her panic, and she finally managed to make sense of her surroundings. "H... Hayate-sensei?"

Hayate, seated on the side of the bed, reached out to cup the back of her head, "Yes, Juliet. Your host's little experiment tripped the wards we placed on you. I'm sorry it took me so long to break the spell, but we have to move very carefully to remove magic that affects the mind so deeply."

"Magic... that affects... the mind..." Juliet's panic ebbed quickly as she thought over that statement, replaced with a rising rage. "Where are my parents?"

"Sleeping," Hayate said, gesturing to the other bed in the guest room. Her parents were there, sleeping peacefully. "I thought it best to make sure you were safely out of whatever that was, before waking them. What happened?"

"Don't know," Juliet growled, "but I know who did it." Briefly, she explained where they were and why, as she got out of bed and got dressed. She put away what little she had unpacked, then did the same for her parents, leaving street clothes.

Hayate listened to her explanation in silence, but as Juliet reached to wake her father, asked, "Do you want me to handle this, Juliet? Can you do it safely?"

Juliet considered that for a moment, then nodded. "I'll take care of it. I can do it." Then she finished leaning forward, shaking her father's shoulder. She could not help checking his neck first, making sure there was no mark there, and felt incredible relief when he mumbled in his sleep and tried to roll away from her. She shook his shoulder harder, "Dad, wake up. Dad!"

"Not now, Juliet," he muttered, eyes opening just a little, "go back to bed."

"We're leaving," Juliet told him flatly, "right now."

The tone woke him further, and he blinked at her, "Juliet? It's the middle of the night, what are you..."

"That bastard tied to trap me in some sort of vision of hell," Juliet snarled. "I told you he was up to something, and that proves it."

"No, it was a test," her father mumbled, sitting up slightly.

The shock of that, realizing that her parents knew the old man was going to try that, held her still for a second. Then her anger redoubled, and she had to exert significant self control not to do something violent. "Get up," she snarled through clenched teeth. "We are leaving, right now." Her father started to say something, but Juliet cut him off with a glowing fist, held just before his nose. "_Now_."

"Juliet, don't threaten your parents," Hayate told her, "they did what they thought best."

Juliet turned away from the bed to head for the door, snagging her parents' bags and her own as she went. "I _warned_ them he was up to something, that he couldn't be trusted, and they still let him cast some torture spell on me!"

Hayate made a disbelieving sound, but said nothing more as Juliet slammed the door open, stomping down the hall just shy of jogging. When she hit the living room at the bottom of the stairs, she turned for the door, only to stop halfway across when she noticed the Shaman walking heavily through a side door, his grandson at his heels.

"You should not have woken her," the Shaman rasped, "the trial progresses to maintain the subject's mental balance. Without that..."

Juliet's rage spiked on seeing him, and hearing him lecturing Hayate-sensei was too much. She shed the bags without a thought, and crossed the room in three lunging strides. Ndebele had plenty of time to raise a shield, but her fist was wrapped in magic before she started her swing, and just before impact, she altered that spell slightly. When fist met shield, both detonated, loud and sharp in the confined space. Juliet rocked away from the blast, using that to set up her follow-up strike. She did not have time to prepare a new charge, but Ndebele was still reeling from her first blow, and her fist slammed into his jaw hard enough to hurt her, and she felt a spurt of vicious pleasure as she heard the distinctive crack of breaking bone.

She wanted to continue, to visit upon him every horror he had shown her. But that last image from the dream held her, made her hesitate. _I'm not that,_ she silently snarled at herself, _I'm not!_ Instead, she grabbed him by the throat, forcing him to look her in the eye. "If you ever come near me or my family, interfere with us, so much as _nod _from across the _street _at us," she growled, "so help me God, I will come back here, break every miserable bone in your feeble old body, and _burn this shack down around you_!"

Her parents, still dressed for bed, were stumbling down the steps when she slammed Ndebele against the wall before dropping him. Juliet ignored him, now, striding over to get her family's bags. "We're leaving," she repeated, staring at them until they nodded slowly. She glanced at Hayate, but her teacher only shook her head and gestured towards the door. Then Juliet turned and blasted the front door off its hinges, anger still boiling in her veins.

00000

Hayate walked over once the Van Saars were safely on their way, staring down at Ndebele where he was leaning against the wall. His grandson was trying to tend to his jaw, and she could feel the eyes of those woken by Juliet's temper staring at her, but she ignored all of them. "If you're wondering, Shaman, your little nightmare spell triggered the wards I placed on all my students. It only took me as long as it did to intervene because any spell that interfaces that deeply with the mind must be delicately unwoven.

"You made two mistakes, Shaman, but they were critical mistakes. The first was not obtaining my permission to conduct your experiments with my student. I may have agreed, had your case been convincing. I would not have objected to your teaching her spells, explaining your world view and philosophy. But casting spells upon her was never in the picture.

"Your second and far worse mistake was casting it upon her without _her _permission. Minor or not, she has demonstrated she has the maturity, skill, and strength to make her own decisions. I would have accepted an apology, but what you just did to her, by my lights, constitutes assault with intent to harm. Were this Bureau space, you would now be facing charges, and had she not exacted her own justice, I would now be doing so for her.

"When we first met, and when you met Signum, you gave us both the impression that you would welcome a challenge, a friendly rivalry. With this, however, you have proven that, as with the Circles, I cannot trust you. Because of this, while I will not allow her to carry through on her threat, if you ever violate her conditions, I will return here, and neither you, nor any member of your family, will ever be able to use magic again. You will loose the one thing that defines your place in this world, and I will give you neither mercy nor second chances. An attack on my students is unforgivable. Remember that."

She turned and headed for the door, then stopped, and looked back. "Oh, and by the time the sun rises, none of the stable magics I can feel in this area will remain. A reminder, that I am unlike any foe you have faced before."

00000

Ndebele waited until the strange young woman was gone before gently pushing Themba back. It took an effort to focus around the sharp pain in his jaw, but he managed to draw on his magic, shaping it carefully. He was not up to completely healing the fracture Juliet had created in his jaw, but he set it, bound it, and began the healing process, well enough to allow him to talk, at least. It was a strain, after having two spells broken in such a short period of time, but he had earned his title the hard way a long time ago.

"Well, that went worse than I expected," he grumbled, letting Themba help him up and to a chair.

Themba fussed at him for a few seconds, "Are you sure you're all right, grandfather? So many spells, so much damage..."

Ndebele waved him off, "I'll be fine. It's the girl I'm worried about. She did not complete the vision, she saw none of the balance of her life, only the flaws. She has such rage, it will be compounded by the interrupted vision, unless young Hayate is more skilled than she appears."

"I fear we lost the girl, though. She will be more dangerous to Africa now."

Ndebele chuckled at that, shaking his head. "You still have much to learn, boy. Juliet will never be one of ours, no, but dangerous? No, not to Africa. If she returns from young Hayate's school, she will be precisely what I hoped she would, a challenge for you and your peers to live up to. If she does not learn to control her anger, if she becomes as dangerous as you fear, then Hayate will be forced to deal with her, permanently or otherwise. Either way, Africa wins. Not in the way I had hoped, but as surely as the sun rises. Africa always wins, in the end."

00000

Juliet did not say another word until they were past the ranch's gate and once again on a public road, relaxing the wary guard she had maintained, leaving only a single device-strengthened shield over the car. "I told you," she growled, watching the darkness, that terrible image still fresh in her mind's eye, "I told you again and again that he couldn't be trusted. He's a Terran mage, and no Terran mage can ever be trusted."

"He's not part of the Circles," her mother protested in a shaky voice.

"It doesn't matter! He's _Terran_ and a _mage_. He's a xenophobic, holier-than-thou bigot, who thinks he has the right to do whatever he wants to anyone, whether they believe as he does or not. All Terran mages are like that, they're all trained to hate and fear whatever doesn't follow their specific traditions. Circles, shamans, new agers, it makes no difference. You can _never_ trust a Terran mage."

"Hayate is from Japan," Her father said, "but you trust her."

"She's not a Terran mage," Juliet explained, "she was trained off world, in a tradition that welcomes others, that understands different beliefs and makes room for them. She is not a Terran mage, neither am I, and neither are my classmates. _He _is a Terran mage. He will be my enemy, our enemy, until the day we die, because his arrogant little mind won't allow anything else."

She continued staring into the night as her explanation faded, before finally whispering, "You can never trust a Terran mage."

00000

Author's Note: So, it's been forever since I posted to this, and as you can see, I'm still working on the 'summer break'. This Side Story gave me fits for months, mostly trying to figure out where Juliet's attitude balanced. I even started an alternate 'Side Story 10' about Luke's summer, but wound up hitting another brick all there (don't do that, by the way, it's painful). Juliet's presentation here was worse than I originally planned, but better than the alternatives I came up with. Much calmer, and she was just a re-tread of Allison. Much angrier, and she was nothing but a mindless little hate-machine. Here, she's actually got some motivation and reasons. She's still angrier than I originally intended, but not irretrievable, given the circumstances. Shaman Ndebele also came out worse than planned, but I still he's got that bit of Magnificent Bastard/Chessmaster that he used to be going on – not perfect, but tricky, old, and confident. On top of those issues, I've of course been slaving away on Endless Waltz, and been kind-of working on yet another Deva Magic story. So, hope you all enjoyed it, but now I have to figure out the _other _Side Story I'm working on, for Luke's summer.

00000

First up, a thank you to everyone who reviewed the last two chapters, and my humblest apologies (as usual) for the delay. I seem to keep saying that, with this story...

liingo: I'm glad you enjoyed my little jaunt into cross-over land. It was fun to write, when I wasn't feeling mortally embarrassed.

CrimsonDX: Toushiro doesn't so much have 'connections' with the Yakuza, as a favor. Still valuable, and I'm thinking of how to include it, if possible, in Endless Waltz.

Baughn: I know it's been a while, but I really dislike that the idea that it's possible to 'photo-copy' a human being. I prefer the concept that there's more to us than just a pattern of electrical impulses. Yes, I know, old-fashioned and elitist, but a world where we're just random chemical reactions isn't worth occupying. As for the chapter, yeah, it was fun, but no sequels. The 'non-interference' rule makes too much sense to me, not so much as an absolute, as encouragement to move slowly in such situations. Better cautious than repeating some of the mistakes in our own history.

Seotter: I just couldn't resist some sort of reference to HP, given how many comparisons were made early on in Academy Blues. The 'other dimension' routine was just the easiest, though the various reactions were fun. The inside of the Sword of Light was easy, it's precisely the sort of place Sara would have felt most comfortable. As far as unique spells, that will be true to some extent. No one else is crazy enough to attempt Schroedinger, for instance, and I'm trying to come up with a spell unique to each student, or at least 'advanced versions'. Juliet's 'exploding fist' spell above is called Sledgehammer, which per Chapter 07 of Endless Waltz, she's teaching to Laura – but she's got a more powerful version called Godshammer. Toushiro's Shotgun, Megan's Henshin, Noriko's Cascade of Spring's Glory, defining spells like those will be unique. At the same time, however, the kids are at a school, and they're teaching each other things they figure out as much as figuring things out for themselves. Yussef, especially, will be sharing his spells with the Myrmidons, just because that's the way he thinks.

Natimus Prime: Yeah, I can't really see doing anything serious with HP, mostly because a lot of its conceits feel silly. Good books, don't get me wrong, but... not a world I'm up for adding to. As for Toushiro's story, you're precisely right on the difference between 'age' and 'experience'. It wasn't what I originally set out to put in that story, but when the idea came together, it fit too well with both him and the situation. His scene with his thoughts on his old friends was the genesis of that, really. On the other hand, experience is no absolute guarantee of maturity and discipline, either, as both Juliet and the Shaman demonstrated above. Oh, and yes, there _will _be a sequel to Academy Blues:).

R-Smith: Feel free to lurk, I've been doing that at various websites for years now. Thanks for the review, and if I may repeat, my apologies for the delayed reply. They Yakusa were originally supposed to show up earlier, just after Toushiro found out about his sister, looking to use her to get to her friends. I was hesitant to include Ichigo, actually, because there wasn't really enough threat to justify him, but I couldn't see Toushiro trying something like that alone, but I am happy with how it turned out. Hope you're still hanging around and enjoying!

Kell Shock: I was trying to keep the location in 'Oops' mysterious for a while, it took forever to figure out how to describe some things without completely giving it away. Snape deserves a boot someplace other than his head, but I guess, given the whole 'last minute sacrifice' thing, it shouldn't hit too hard. Most of the names from Bombard did come from other anime (I'm lazy, okay?). I don't remember where Seichiro came from, which means it was probably from a website that lists names. That's usually how I find names for face characters – look up the local language, then find someplace that lists common names & surnames, and assemble something that resembles the character I'm making.

pfeil: I've had varying pictures of Laura landing in Hogwarts since about halfway through Academy Blues, and most of them involved literally landing on someone (usually Ron, for some reason) and then starting a fight (usually with Draco or Hermione...). I liked out 'Oops' turned out, though, it's a smoother set-up than prior iterations. As for Cidela's familiar, he probably wouldn't go over well, unless he hid in her shirt the whole time. With Toushiro's story, I'm still trying to figure all the implications and uses of that 'interesting wrinkle', to see if it can play a part in Endless Waltz.


	11. 11 Lazy Harry's

**Lazy Harry's**

An Academy Blues Side Story

By Daishi Prime

Author's Note: _**I LIVE**_! Yeah, okay, I know this isn't the next chapter of Endless Waltz that all of you were hoping for, but that has me stumped, and has for a while. It's half done, but… only half. So I've been going back working on the outline to try and figure out how to fix the problems. Had some family issues in there as well, all fixed and well worth it, but distracting. Here's the long-promised 'Luke' Side Story. Not what I originally intended, but acceptable. Luke's just too damn calm to get into trouble. Both the title and the bar are taken from a song by The Bushwackers, an Australian folk band that my father has a record of (old vinyl no less!). Lot of fun music on that album, and I'd recommend them, if I could find them anywhere online. Correction – Amazon for the win! They weren't there when I checked last year, but they've got albums on there now. Victory!

Setting Note: This takes place during the school's summer break, after the first year.

--

Luke's first few weeks back from Japan were remarkably like his last few weeks before going to Japan. Up early, breakfast whatever he could find, chores around the house until mid-morning, then out to the fields and fences where he spent the rest of the day until dinner. The magic helped to a surprising extent, mostly in simple ways such as easing lifting or digging, enough to impress his family that what he was learning was actually useful. Despite that, the work remained the same, and impressed though his family was, the sheep were not.

Contrary to his schoolmates' assumptions, his family's ranch was not in the notorious Outback, but along its ill-defined edge at the foot of the mountains, where the dry land gave way to real desert, close enough to the coast to get respectable rainfall. The family had managed to hold onto a fair-sized sheep ranch since their first 'honest' ancestors arrived in Australia, through a combination of luck, judicious breeding, and careful adaptation to modern times. All of which still entailed a significant amount of work, and Luke soon found that, Yussef's classes aside, he had gotten sadly out of shape in Japan.

He was grateful for the change, in general. Life at school had begun feeling increasingly disconnected from the real world, more so after February. After Operation Nimrod, exhaustion and worry had intensified his and his classmates' focus on their immediate problem of what they were learning, over what was going on elsewhere. It was fun, but being back at home was a nice change of pace and reminder that, however ivory-tower things at the school became, there were always practical considerations.

He had just sat down to breakfast before sunrise one early July morning when his father Samuel stomped into the kitchen. "Luke, you got a bush kit put back together yet?"

Luke had to think for a second, before shaking his head, "Haven't needed it, Dad." Simple truth, he had not been more than an hour or so from the house since coming back from Japan. The bush kit he used for overnight trips the previous summer had been disassembled the previous August, parts going to Japan, the rest being divided up between his younger brothers for their bush kits.

His father grunted acknowledgment as he cracked open the fridge, "Lay off whatever you were going to do this morning and get it put back together, you're coming with me and Wally."

Luke blinked, surprised to be going anywhere, "Um, where?"

"Dingo hunting," his father answered. "Old man Evans' been having trouble with the beasties, asked for some help clearing them out, paperwork came back okay yesterday. Better to get them when they're after those bloody chickens of his, than when they're coming after our herds. Figure, a week up there in the bush, come back by way of the highway, spend a couple days at Harry's. Could do with some time off."

Luke ignored most of the explanation, once 'dingos' came up. The dog-like scavengers were a serious pest, especially for ranchers like them, and periodically their numbers would surge. Clearing out a pack was unpleasant and risky work, and it drove the Greens berserk, but it was that or let the herds be decimated. Not that Luke or his family gave a fig about the Greens, but even the most traditional ranchers had to admit that, in reasonable numbers, the dingos did a fair job of keeping smaller pests under control. "I'll have a kit together in a couple hours," he said, hurrying his breakfast a little. "When do we leave?"

"Noonish," his father replied, settling eggs and bacon on the counter. "Wally's in town for supplies, he'll be back later this morning. Ride up to Evans' this afternoon, find out from him where the dingos're lairing, and camp out north of his place in the bush." Samuel grimaced then, holding up an egg, before adding, "away from those _bloody _chickens."

Luke could not resist chuckling at that. Evans claimed to raise 'free range' chickens, because he let the brainless birds have the run of the land around his house, two acres fenced in by chicken-wire and covered in worse. Evans was getting on in years, though, and he frequently missed breaks in the fence, resulting in flocks of squawking white puff-balls running all over creation, including onto Henderson Ranch, which drove his father nuts.

"Maybe we'll get lucky, and a few stray shots'll head in that direction," Luke offered.

_This'll be fun,_ he thought as he headed back to his room to start putting a kit together. _I haven't been out in the bush since last summer, and that didn't really count. Two days at an old dam's hardly 'bush country.'_

00000

Two days later they were well into the bush, and already showing progress. They'd caught several dingos, and the spare pack horse was carrying what they'd cleaned off the animals. While dingos did not have the best meat or fur, the carcasses still provided useful materials that none of them wanted to waste, however unpleasant the necessary work.

Luke was breaking trail for the others, a position they traded off every few hours, though the country was not the rough enough to really wear down the horses. He had no idea who the land hereabouts belonged to, if anyone, but it hardly mattered. The only signs of human presence they had encountered or expected to were the ones they left, minimal as those were.

For Luke, riding point gave him an opportunity to work on his magic some more, testing how the training device expanded his range. That had proven useful so far, allowing him to locate dingos hiding in the bush, but he was ever mindful of Hayate-sensei's final warning. Just before teleporting him home, she had told him a little of what she felt when she went to Ayer's Rock, and a little more of what she had learned of Australia from the Circles, all of which painted a picture of strangeness even for his homeland. So his testing was doubly cautious.

He was focusing more on caution than range, but was still getting a good read on his immediate area. Which, he was certain, was the only reason he detected the approaching mages. He monitored them for a half hour or so, altering his course to pass wide of them. When the mages altered their course to match his again, he pulled Stepper up short, staring in the direction he could feel magic, holding up a hand for silence when Wally and his father asked what was happening.

The trio of Aborigines who faded out of the bush were a surprise, though they seemed to be fully expecting him. Middle-aged, in an odd combination of western and native clothes, rifles slung on their backs but spears in hand, they settled into a rough line a good ten meters from him, and indulged in a silent staring contest.

Luke finally got tired of it, "G'day, neighbors, something wrong? Sorry if we slipped onto your land, just let us know the quickest route out we'll be on our way."

The trio grinned at each other, chuckling over something he said, before the one to Luke's right leaned forward on his spear. "You're nowhere you shouldn't be, lad. But you're doing something you shouldn't be. Your magic, hereabouts it's a bad idea."

Luke frowned at that, distrust rising. He had been, he was certain, exceedingly cautious in his scanning, and while he still had a lot to learn, 'caution' was something he had quite a firm grip on. Also, he had not sensed a thing that was not supposed to be in the area, just the usual animals and plants that should be in the area. _So these three don't like me keeping my guard up,_ he thought, _but why? They're not Circle, the Circle wouldn't be this blatant._ "I'm being careful," he said slowly, "and have found nothing that reacts to magic."

"We did."

"And I'm disappointed," Luke countered. "I've been tracking you three for a good ten minutes now, I thought you were all supposed to be invisible in the bush."

"Don't be a prick," the middle one laughed, "we are invisible in the bush, 'cept against that crap you call magic."

"You have been tracking us for at least half an hour," the third man commented, "poorly, but tracking. There are things out here, boy, left over from the Dreamtime. You're disturbing them. They don't like being disturbed, and don't play as nice as we do. Keep your magic to yourself." He turned, gestured to the other two, and started walking away.

"And tell that teacher of yours to do the same," the first one added as he turned. "She's a bloody strange one, but she's got no business mucking about Down Under."

The trio faded back into the bush just as quickly and smoothly as they had come out of it, but Luke was half-tempted to go after them. While the insults and casual threat were annoying, most of what got under his skin was the utter lack of information. "Oh, gee, thanks," he muttered, "tell me something's dangerous, then don't bother telling me what it is. Bastards."

His father rode up next to him, "You all right, Luke?"

"Just annoyed," Luke answered. "I've gotten to used to Hayate-sensei," the Japanese rolled of his tongue without him noticing, despite the odd look his father gave him, "she and the other teachers make a habit of explaining everything. Yeah, sure, it's a school, but still, they're very good about giving us full information. These idiots," he gestured at where the trio had stood, "just spout cryptic nothings and wander off."

"Going to heed those warnings?"

"I can't," Luke grimaced, "not any more than I already have been. Too much chance of something surprising us."

His father studied him for a minute, then nodded slowly, "Understand that, but do me a favor. Back off on the magic, son. Pissing off the Aborigines isn't a good idea. If someone starts something, go to town, but ease off for now."

Luke grimaced, but nodded. It made him nervous, especially given how useful his magic had already proven at finding the dingos, but orders from his father and warnings from the aborigines could not be argued with. "All right, I'll lay off."

His father nodded again, "Take tail, I'll lead for a while."

00000

Six days later, slinging his now worn and abused kit onto Stepper's rump, all he could think of was, _Finally, thank God! Home again, home again, jiggity jig. Cold water, meals that're more food than char, and a long cold shower._

Wally's voice from the pack horses interrupted his pleasant daydream of a cold shower and soap, "You tied down, Luke? Need to get moving, if we're going to make Harry's 'fore sundown."

Luke nodded, "Almost, yeah. Just gotta get the tie rope. Want me to take the pack-horses with me?"

Wally blinked at him, "Take them where?" 

"Back home."

"We're going to Lazy Harry's," Wally answered, sounding as if he thought Luke was insane.

That confused Luke somewhat more, "I know that. I'm not allowed at Lazy Harry's, remember? Underage and all that, Mom'd pitch a fit."

"Your mother agreed with me, for a change," his father commented, coiling the tie-rope around his arm. "Trial basis, you're allowed to come with Wally and I to Lazy Harry's. Behave yourself, and we'll see if you're allowed to go back."

For a couple seconds, Luke could only stand there and blink in surprise. Lazy Harry's was, officially, a combination of pub, hotel and camp ground, down at the southern edge of Henderson Ranch where it met the town line and Gailbraith Ranch, right at the crossroads. Unofficially, being on land not technically part of either ranch or the town, Harry Wallace pretty much ran the place however he chose, and its reputation wandered from 'seedy' to 'irredeemably damned'. Luke had asked, way back when he was thirteen, when he would be allowed to join his father and the ranch hands on a trip out there. He had been canny enough to ask his father when his mother was not in ear-shot, and had thus gotten off with only having to do his little brothers' chores as well as his own for a week. When his mother heard, she had gone ballistic and ordered him to stay within shouting distance of the house for a month, as well as informing him he would be allowed within sight of Lazy Harry's only when she was dead and buried.

Now he was going, and was honestly not sure he wanted to. Way back then, it was a simple matter of getting a place as 'an adult', as 'one of the boys'. Now, though, he had a place as 'one of the boys', though not here, and Hayate had shown him more about being 'adult' than he expected Lazy Harry's could. On the one hand, he was frankly curious. On the other hand, he was fairly certain there were better ways to spend his time. But his father's decision was essentially final, so Luke finished packing his share of the gear, and saddled up.

00000

Lazy Harry's was just as questionable in appearance as its reputation suggested. Weathered clapboard construction, two floors of solid square, a pair of fenced paddocks for horses, and a swath of open land for tents, currently lightly populated. A full-length porch was built off the front, and the first floor had no front wall, the porch extending smoothly into the pub right to the bar along the back wall. A few people were clustered at tables, but it was still early afternoon. More people would arrive later, travelers coming off the road for the night and 'regulars' finishing their day.

They set up camp in the field to one side, among the tents of others passing by, then moved into the pub itself. The crowd was friendly enough, no one here had bad history, and Harry himself was a demon on fighting in his place. It was well known that he kept a slew of shotguns behind the bar, and more than one patron spoiling for a fight had been escorted out by the barrel of one of those guns. It was one of Luke's mother's favorite ways to cut his father down, when he came back from Harry's, "What, no shotgun holes this time?" Both his parents refused to elaborate on when Harry had taken a shot at his father.

As afternoon flowed into evening, the chill of early winter settled in, and business picked up, Luke found himself sitting next to his father at one end of a long table. He was mostly listening to the goings on around him. The discussion was in many ways familiar from listening to his father and the ranch hands he had grown up around, but the range of attitudes and opinions were rather different. More telling, the energy of the place was different as well, more rambunctious, louder. So he contented himself with sitting in place, listening to the goings on, while nursing a beer.

That was another change from normal. Australia's reputation aside, neither of his parents had ever been willing to let Luke, or his siblings, near anything remotely alcoholic. They each got a small glass of wine at Christmas and Easter dinners, and that was it. When they'd settled in at their table, though, his father had ordered him a beer without batting an eye. The taste was taking some getting used to, but not really objectionable.

Consideration of his unfamiliar circumstances was cut off by a man sitting down across from him, leaning forward to ask, "So, Luke, I hear you've been off at some fancy school up in Japan."

Luke nodded, "Yeah, Wozitsky, outside Kyoto."

"It that magic school we been hearing about?"

Charlie Wozitsky was a hand at one of the neighboring ranches. Which one depended on the season and the last time he'd gone on a roaring drunk, though he usually was not a bad sort. This time, something in Wozitsky's face seemed off to Luke. He seemed to be... overly eager, expecting something. There was a 'wink-wink, nudge-nudge' feel to his voice and posture, that Luke found distinctly uncomfortable. Still, it was a valid question. "Yup, the Yagami Academy."

Wozitsky chuckled, "Learning some magic tricks, huh? Think you could... show us something?"

Luke frowned at him, "No, I don't think so. Not around here. Too many people, too many odd things left over from the Dreamtime. I'll tell you about it, but no demos."

"Ah, come on..."

"I said no," Luke interrupted. "That means no, Wozitsky."

"I'd listen to him, Charlie," his father added. "He's not learning stage tricks, it's dangerous stuff. Leave well enough alone, especially with the Abo's warning us off."

Wozitsky shrugged, "Sure, sure, okay. But it must be an interesting place. I've heard some weird things 'bout that country. They really as strange up there as they say?"

Uncomfortable as it was, Luke found himself having to go into quite a lot of detail about Japan and the Japanese, and he was soon the focus of a large number of Harry's patrons. He had not realized how uncommon his travels and 'adventures' were until that evening, trying to explain and clarify Japan for his audience. He did not really care for some of the crazier ideas they had, but managed to salve his conscience by dispelling as many of them as he could. Right up until Wozitsky asked, "What about the girls? They as... kinky as I've heard? That teacher of yours was lookin' real pretty when she popped up on the news."

Luke stamped on the instant spurt of rage, but knew he was not keeping it off his face or out of his voice. "I don't care for that tone in regard to my teacher."

Wozitsky just grinned, "Ah, come one, kid, you're not blind. She's..."

"I do not care for your tone in regard to my teacher," Luke growled. "Don't push me on this, Wozitsky."

"Settle down, Luke," his father said, resting a hand on his shoulder. "He didn't mean anything by it."

"Yes, he did. He's insulting one of my teachers, the best of my teachers. I'll put up with confusion, with bad stories and worse myths. But I will not put up with a direct insult to any of them, let alone her."

Wozitsky chuckled, "Sounds like you _are _taken with her, eh?"

"No. She is my teacher, the best person I have ever met. Your disgusting suggestions are an insult, to her and those of us who follow her."

"Hah! Follow her, huh? Thought you were supposed to be man." Wozitsky sneered, "Only reason a man follows a sheila's 'cause he likes the view from behind her."

Luke very nearly lost it then and there. The sheer disgusting insult set off his temper and he very nearly called up his magic and launched a buster spell into Wozitsky's face without thinking. But he retained control long enough to snarl, "Hayate-sensei is the greatest human being this world has ever seen. Your disgusting comments and slimy thoughts are beyond insulting, and if you have anything resembling a brain, you'll keep them to yourself. So help me God, you say another word, and I will give you a demonstration of precisely what I am capable of."

"I think you've had enough, Charlie," Luke's father said. "Wally, give him a hand out to his tent, would you."

Wozitsky looked like he was going to protest, until he glanced around and noticed the collection of flat looks staring back at him. Luke watched him go, watching until he was gone from view around the corner. Then his father squeezed his shoulder.

"While he was over the line, Luke, so were you."

Luke nodded slowly. "Understood. But no one – no one – insults Hayate-sensei like that."

"One sheila worth that?"

The feeling that question woke was so odd, so out of place given who he was talking to, that it took Luke a second to recognize the feeling as disappointment. His father should understand, had understood well enough to let Luke go to the school in the first place, to let him stay there after February. To realize that he did not understand how important Hayate was... 'disappointing' put it mildly. "She's not 'one sheila', Dad. She's creating Earth's future up there, and we're part of it. We went to war for her, and we'd do it again in a heartbeat. She's..." he shrugged uncomfortably, "look, you know how you feel about the Queen? We're like... the Queen's own bodyguards, like the Beefeaters or SAS. I know what I'm going to be doing for the rest of my life, okay? Hayate-sensei gave me that, gave all of us that. She's not 'one sheila'. She's Hayate Yagami, the Mistress of the Night Sky, Wielders of the Sword and Staff. She's worth anything, to all of us. Nothing dirty, not like Wozitsky was thinking, but she's worth anything."

His father studied his face for a few more moments, then shook his head, "If you say so, Luke. But you'll want to be a little more cautious. Getting in a fight over someone else's crude brain isn't a good idea, especially when Harry's got such a short temper. You're mother would have my hide if Harry saw you off with a shotgun your first time here."

Luke snorted, "Please, Dad. Harry's shotgun couldn't do a damn thing to me. My shields before we got the training devices were rated to stand up to a fifty caliber rifle at a hundred yards. Now? I'm willing to bet I could stop a cannon round, without a sweat."

"Just please don't test that," his father chuckled.

Luke accepted the admonishment, and managed to go back to thinking, instead of talking. _Why doesn't dad get it? It's not hard, it's... Hayate-sensei._

00000

Author's Note The Second: I realize it's been forever since I posted to this story, so please bear with me. I had to go back and re-read 'Sound & Fury' myself. My apologies for that, as usual.

00000

Eternal Longing: Juliet was originally going to be a less-angry version of Allison, but they switched rolls in my head. Allison's more obvious about it, but Juliet's angrier. On the other hand, Juliet _realizes_ that. To be honest, though, I was really looking for an excuse to have one of the kids dish out a beat-down, and the idea for Shaman Ndebele's 'vision spell' came along, so…:). Glad you liked it.

pfeil: See, I rather liked Dumbledore after he turned out to be manipulative. It did so much to explain why he had such a towering reputation – he really was that much of a Magnificent Bastard, which is what I want Ndebele to be. To balance what Harry has to put up with, though, Juliet has to deal with Laura as a classmate.

Kell Shock: There are sixteen 'Second Years' (students from Academy Blues), out of whom Ichigo is the only one not to get a Side Story. He's shown up in Marcel's (Strong Right Hand) and Toushiro's (Bombard), but he hasn't had his own. Mariachi could use his own, though I've no ideas at present. Yussef, Noriko, Laura and Cidela don't need them (they get enough attention in the main stories), though I have to admit, the next Side Story will be one for Laura. I feel a little guilty about that, but she's the most conflict-prone of all the students. Oh, and then there's the ten 'First Years' that need some attention. Yes, I'm a glutton for self-punishment, why do you ask? You're definitely right about the difference between Juliet's and Allison's combat styles, but it's more a matter of experience. Essentially, Juliet is instinctively trying to do what Allison was trained to do by her father. As for Juliet and her parents, there is potential for serious trouble there, but that same respect could very well work in the other direction, letting her overlook or work through misunderstandings. Conversely, it could make them excellent targets for the Circles or the Shaman, trying to get to Juliet.

Baughn: Never said they were all perfect, though I would argue that Natalia is worse off than Juliet. Juliet's angry, Natalia is quite possibly clinically insane (I still haven't decided that yet). Most of the fall out from the shaman's spell has been dealt with 'off screen' in Endless Waltz. It's there, a defining experience for her, but background. As for Hinamizawa, if it's the reference I suspect to the anime/manga about the reincarnated murderers (or whatever they were), it would freak them out, but that's not Juliet's style. If she wants you scared, she'll do it directly.

R. Smith: The 'Africa always wins' is a paraphrase of an attitude that is prevalent throughout the world. Britain, China, the US, Russia, all of them and others believed in that expression (substituting their own nations, of course). China was the most blatant and blind about it, historically, but the British Empire had its moments as well. As for not being 'preachy', I do my best to avoid it just because I dislike it. A few characters' attitudes make it necessary once in a while (Li would have), but I usually manage to avoid writing from their perspectives. Juliet's vision was pretty much as described, a nightmare of where her own anger could lead her. Not so much 'Heart of Darkness' (which felt rather cerebral, when I read it), as Friday the 13th (with her as both Freddie & Freddie's victims).


	12. 12 The Sims Gambit

**The Sims Gambit**

An Academy Blues Side Story

By Daishi Prime

Setting Note: This takes place during the school's summer break, after the first year.

Author's Note: Per reviewer demand, and my own demented imagination, here is the Noodle Incident explained. I liked the idea of it remaining a mystery, and I know that explaining it is going to diminish its power, but I like this story as well, so posting it won out. I was working on this concurrently with the last two chapters of Endless Waltz, and the last chapter of Side Stories, which is why it's ready so soon.

--

For the first time she could remember, Laura found herself disliking summer vacation. While not having school was nice, and being home with her parents was great, those did not balance one inescapable fact – she was bored out of her skull the first day. There was no sparring with Sensei, no new magic to study, nobody to prank, just plain nothing to do.

It would not have been that bad, were it not for Hayate-sensei's admonishments not to do too much with their magic over the summer. Devices or not, she had made it clear that they could still do themselves and the surrounding area significant damage with just a little mistake, and Laura was more aware of that than most of her classmates. So she was left with nothing but little exercises and theoretical stuff. In the first week, she managed to re-work her Bolt drones, refined the Positron Buster, and planned out two new spells, working them out as best she could without a workroom for live tests.

Even her attempts to hook up with some of her old friends fell through. Most of them were on summer trips, having gotten out of school a week before she did. She managed to get together to hang out with a couple of her old crew, but not all of them, and not for more than a couple hours at a time. It was hardly enough to counteract her boredom, even if most of them swore on their lives to be at her birthday party. That was _then_, and she was utterly bored _now_.

It was not until the start of her second week back that something interesting happened – someone in the local news figured out who she was, and showed up at her family's house with a camera van and lots of questions. Part of that was no doubt due to good detective work, since the media had all been quietly interested in Hayate's students since March. Part of it, Laura was certain, was due to someone in the Circles getting a little pay-back without necessarily drawing Hayate's ire.

If pushed, however, she would agree that the largest part of the reporters finding her was simply due to her own aerial acrobatics, since boredom had, several times, resulted in her flying up to Providence, or even all the way out to Fall River, just looking around, but hardly being subtle. Those flights, covering a good hour's worth of driving distance, got her in the news, much to her parents' displeasure, but she found it more amusing than anything else. The news shows seemed torn between incredulous amazement, and cynical assumption of some sort of prank. But tracking her back home from one of those could not have been too hard, and from there they could quite easily have found out names and such information.

The first reporter was actually very polite and professional. He showed up a little after noon, left his crew at the van to come to the door alone, and asked if her parents were home. When she said 'no', he thanked her and left. Then showed up again just as her father arrived home, and was promptly told precisely what he could do with his interview requests, and what his crew could do with their cameras and microphones. So the intrepid reporter ran a short piece in the local evening news, with a lovely shot of the front of their house, and some not-so-subtle 'concerns' about why no member of the Sims family was willing to talk to the media.

Laura's father was livid when he saw that report, on the phone to the station before it was even done running, swearing up one side and down the other that the news did not have permission to show his house, charging them with slander and worse, and making it clear by the time the commercials ran that if that report showed up again, a lawsuit would be the least of the station's concerns. The next day, the tree at the end of their driveway was sporting a huge 'no trespassing' sign, and a smaller but more eye-catching 'no photographs or movies' sign.

The next stage was a mass of photographers and reporters, much less polite than the first guy, showing up early on a Saturday morning. They camped out on the far shoulder of the street, where there were no houses, just un-posted woods, jostling one another as they tried to get a picture of or words from Laura.

Staring out a crack in the front room's curtains, Laura groaned at the sight. "Man, I'm sorry, Dad, Mom. I shouldn't've been flying around like that. I thought I was slick, I was never airborne within a mile of the house, but someone must have figured it out."

"You shouldn't have been flying like that, no," her mother agreed, ruffling her hair, "but those shiftless slackers aren't your fault, Laura."

Her father was much more direct. "They're a menace. They're also interfering with traffic, and those woods are private property, even if it does belong to that city-boy Myers. Well, your cousin'll clean them out right quick." He headed into the kitchen, and Laura grinned as she heard him pick up the phone and dial. A minute later he picked up in a joking tone, "Hey, Shelly, it's Johnathan. Is that lazy bum of a cousin of mine on duty today, or is he faking another sick day? He's patrolling? Do me a favor, ask him to stop by. Myers has some trespassers who're blocking traffic." He barked a laugh at Shelly's response, "Yeah, yeah, I know. But I've seen at least two vehicles on the pavement, and you know our street doesn't have paved shoulders. They're in the travel lane, which is a road hazard, especially given how twisty these back roads are. Half hour? Thank's, Shelly, I owe you one."

Sure enough, twenty minutes later, a police car from the town force arrived, siren hooting a couple times before rolling to a stop. Cousin Todd's lanky form unfolded from the driver's seat, and he leaned on the open door. They could not hear what he said, but he made a few shooing motions, pointed threateningly to some of the more recalcitrant types, and got them sent on their way. Once the crowd was moving, he pulled his cruiser into their driveway and walked up, letting himself in as usual.

"Jonathan, Marie, Little Bit," he greeted, then glared out the half-closed door, leaned back out, and shouted, "If you aren't moving in thirty seconds, I'll have your ass in jail 'till the Second Coming for resisting an officer! _Move_!" He glared out the door for another few seconds while Laura tried not to laugh at her mother glaring at him. When Todd finally closed the door, he shook his head, "Look, Johnny, I can get away with this today, 'cause they really were a road hazard, but they'll be more careful next time, and I don't think I'll be able to do it again."

Laura's father nodded, "Figured. But this'll do for now, and I'll ask Myers about posting his property."

Todd shook his head, "That'll work here, man, but what about anywhere else? You three going to restrict yourselves to home until they get bored?"

"No," Laura interrupted, "we're not changing just because of them."

"Not for those parasites," her father sneered, "They're pushing me, though. I'm half minded to get a lawyer, see if I can't sue the bastards, get some sort of restraining order or something."

"It won't be that easy," Todd replied, "not for this story. Even if you could get one of 'em in court and win, everyone saw that broadcast back in March, and there's been damn-all since then, especially about the kids. Laura's right here, easy to reach and already identified. The news stations'll bankrupt themselves for this story, and the only court order that might stop them would be one that throws the whole damn lot of them in jail for all of time."

Laura listened to Todd and her father argue the point for a few minutes, watching as the last of the reporters packed up and left. Most of her was feeling guilty for bringing this down on her parents, though, and thinking of how to fix it. _The problem is,_ she thought, _they're so confident that the story's worth whatever damage we can do to them. They think they're immune, that their positions and companies will protect them. If they thought they wouldn't be safe coming after me... if they __personally__ wouldn't be safe..._

That train of thought wound down into an idea so delicious she could not prevent a giggle. "Dad, Cousin Todd, don't worry about them. I'll handle those parasites."

"Don't do anything rash, Laura," Todd warned her, "you may be a minor, but you can still be arrested."

"Oh, I'm not going to get arrested, Cousin Todd," she smiled up at him innocently. "After all, you can't arrest someone without evidence, can you?"

00000

Laying the groundwork took a few days. She had to make a lot of calls to her friends, arrange transport and a generally acceptable meeting time, create and refine the perfect spell, and figure out a way to make sure the reporters discovered the public part of her plan. When they discovered it was unimportant, so long as they did so soon enough for her plan to have a viable target. Eventually, she had her friend Heather call in a tip to a local TV station on the target day, just after her mother picked up the last girl in the crew.

That last one got her some strange looks, but Laura just smiled and leaned back in the seat. "Don't worry about it, ladies. Just, when I say, stay back. I don't want to catch any of you in my little trap."

The mall was fun, at first, wandering about the stores, debating music and clothes and boys, just being a kid for awhile. The downside to such discussions was the fact that what news coverage there had been had shown her, Noriko, and Yussef as a group. Due to that, Laura's hometown friends were certain she and Noriko were in some sort of deathless fight to capture Yussef's attention. Convincing them otherwise proved impossible, though some of their insistence may have been pay back for her own jokes.

Then, a little over an hour after they got to the mall, the first paparazzi showed up. He was soon followed by more, including a couple local news reporters hoping for some kind of score for their portfolios. Laura watched the cluster growing, smirking as they hung back trying to be 'unobtrusive', and held her peace. She wanted as many as possible, and she needed mall security to get involved just enough to put her targets squarely in the bull's eye.

Mall Security did not show up, but help arrived in the form of a couple city cops, and that sooner than she might have liked, but late enough to give her a good sized group to work with. Even better, she knew one of them. So she pulled her girls together, "Hey, I'm going to go do something about the pervs out front. Follow along if you want, but stay back, like, inside. 'Kay?"

"Laura, be careful," Rachel told her, "this isn't school, these guys aren't just going to laugh it off and give you detention."

Laura grinned, "I know. But most of 'em are going to be too busy running for cover to do anything to me. And this'll just be a warning. Trust me! What could go wrong?"

They gave her dubious looks, but followed along anyhow when she strolled out of the store. She approached the nearer of the two cops, "Officer? I'm sorry officer, these _things_ are here because of me. I think I can get them to behave, but could you get them all together for me? Out front, by the Charles Street entrance?"

The woman gave her an unhappy look, then shook her head, "Whatever they're here for, they're causing a public disturbance. Go back to shopping, Laura, we'll clear them out."

Laura smirked at her cousin, "But wouldn't it be better to do so peacefully, Jennie? If you just push them out one door, they'll come back in another. My way, they'll go away and stay away. Please? I promise not to say anything I shouldn't. Daddy won't even be mad at you, I swear. Scout's honor!"

Jennie was trying hard not to grin now, "You're no scout, girl, and my superior's would pitch a fit if they knew I'd had anything to do with a minor talking to reporters without her family's permission."

"Then don't have anything to do with it, just don't get in the way," Laura countered, then channeled a little magic. When she continued, her voice echoed through the mall, "Reporters and wannabes, this is Laura Sims. I've got a brief statement, but giving it here would interfere with all these people shopping. While I understand you have no understanding of the term, I was raised to be polite to others. So let's all head on out to the Charles Street entrance, it should be out of the way enough. I'll be there in ten minutes. If you aren't there, you won't get any statement, and this will be the last time I ever talk to the press. Ten minutes."

Jennie stared at her for a second as the migration towards the entrance began, then grimaced. "You're up to something, aren't you, Little Bit?"

Laura gave him a hurt innocent look, "But officer, how could you possibly say something so mean about cute innocent little old me? I've no idea what you're going on about."

Jennie chuckled a little, "don't go breaking any laws."

"A misdemeanor, maybe," she said seriously, "in the nature of self defense."

Laura headed for the doors with her friends, walking slowly to give the reports time to gather and prepare. When the finally reached the doors, there was a fair crowd spilling over the concrete. She had chosen this entrance because, as the 'display entrance', it had a wide courtyard between the doors and the parking road, a triangular space flanked by a pair of restaurants with the mall's name towering over it. Laura paused just inside the door, then turned back to her friends. "Right, girls, stay here, don't come out until it's over, 'kay? Occifer, do yourself a favor, and stay behind me. I won't speak for the safety of anyone in front of me out to about sixty feet."

"Sixty feet?"

She grinned, "Just far enough to reach the parasites in back."

The cameras started flashing as soon as she opened the door, as did a few shouted questions. A few paparazzi tried to get closer, but she used just a little magic to push them back into line, forming an arc of lenses and microphones in front of her. She contemplated that for a moment, then picked out the largest camera, conveniently tripod mounted, and pointed at it. The crowd grew quiet enough for her to demand, "Status!"

The man behind the camera hesitated for a moment, looked at the suit next to him, who shrugged, then said, "You're on. Local record with feed to station. Local news'll run this tonight, the station's watching it now."

"Good enough," Laura said, though she had half-hoped for a direct-to-broadcast live feed. Focusing on that camera, she frowned, and began.

"I'm only going to say this once, so listen up and listen good. My family and I are private citizens. We are not public servants, we are not celebrities, and we will not put up with parasites such as yourselves intruding in our lives. You are not 'important to America', you are not 'allies of the people', you do not 'speak truth to power'. You're a bunch of peeping toms and gossip mongers who think a fancy suit and a microphone gives you some kind of authority. It doesn't. You're parasites, scum, almost as bad as those Circle punks. You're _nothing_.

"You and your ilk have been bothering my family for days now, bothering my headmisteress and other teachers, bothering my classmates. I'm sick and tired of it, and you're going to stop. You want to talk to me? You want to interview me and broadcast my face all over the world with your name under it? You get written permission from Hayate-sensei, from me, _and _from parents, before you so much as call. The next parasite I catch, I'm going to do far worse than what I'm about to do. This is no prank. This is not some silly girl abusing her power. This is a warning, a clear and unmistakable sign that me and mine are not to be trifled with, and that you parasites will be held accountable for your uncivilized behavior.

"Molly-breaker."

The power she had been gathering as she spoke pulsed out. Controlling it while Paradox was in storage mode was difficult, but not impossible, and she was not holding any other spells to distract her. The fact that she had never tried this spell before made it more difficult, and keeping it focused to her targets was almost too much. But, again, it was the only spell she was shaping, and the spell formed steady and strong, pulsing out in a quarter-dome in front of her, spreading out to sixty feet then dissipating.

It took a second for what she had done to register, and then the entire crowd exploded in curses and shrieks, embarrassed squawks, the clatter of dropped cameras and microphones, all followed by slamming doors and running feet. Twenty seconds after her spell hit, the only reporters to be seen were naked figures running from cover to cover, and one man modestly covering himself with his hands.

Laura ignored him in favor of walking over to the tripod mounted camera, getting up close and personal, hoping it had auto-focus. Speaking into the boom mike, she continued her speech. "You're scum, and you've just seen my nicest reply to your intrusions. Back off, leave us alone, or so help me God, what I do to the next one of you I catch will leave the rest of you unable to ever _look _at a camera again. You get pissy if you want, you whine and you cry if you like. But above all you remember, the First Amendment protects you from the government, _not from me_." Then she yanked the power cord out, leaving the camera rocking on its tripod.

"You know, miss," the lone reporter still present commented, "this is destruction of property, at the very least. Your warning here could be considered assault, as well. That's a little much for a 'warning', don't you think?"

She glared at him for a second, but had to give him points for collectedness. He did not appear the least embarrassed by his current state, more curious than anything. She cocked her head sideways, thinking it over, then shrugged. "Maybe, but none of them'll have the balls to come after me for it. No one presses charges, there's no crime."

"Public disturbance, public nuisance..."

"All of which I can get each and every one of you for. I can at least claim self defense. You parasites can claim nothing but greed and arrogance."

He actually smiled back at her, challenging her, "You realize that, while you've scared off the little fish, the real journalists will be striving all the harder, now?"

Laura snorted derisively, "There are no real journalists. Just parasites who admit what they are, and parasites who pretend their disgusting little lives have meaning. Now, as for you," she raised one arm to point at him, then sang out in a silly-little-girl voice, "Officer, officer, this man's exposing himself to a minor! I'm scared, officer! Traumatized, even!"

The reporter quirked an eyebrow, then nodded respectfully, and began walking away, taking his time. The cops who had followed her out met her halfway back to the doors. "He's right, you know," Jennie warned her. "They could sue your parents. And you exposed them, not the other way around."

"My parents never gave those people permission to photograph or talk to me," Laura countered, "so technically they were violating child protection laws. If we even get into any sort of legal mumbo-jumbo."

"We should be arresting you right now. But," Jennie shook her head, and ruffled Laura's hair. "Don't do that again, Little Bit, nor anything like it. Todd's going to be pissed off at me enough for letting you talk to them at all, let alone how your father's going to react."

"But Jennie, it was so much fun!"

The hand in her hair shoved her back, almost hard enough to make her stumble. "Don't do it again," Jennie, repeated, "or I'll tell your father you egged them on. Come on Ed, let's go make sure none of those idiots are scaring the kiddies. Laura, you and your friends stay right here, we'll take you home once we've made sure your victims are all right."

Laura hit the mall doors two seconds later, latching onto Heather's shoulders and ask desperately, "Please tell me _you got that_?!"

Heather smirked, nodded, and held up her video-phone between them. "Whole thing. Download when we get home, it's on the web ten minutes later. Even if they don't report it, the whole world'll see it."

Laura spun Heather about with a shout, hugging her close for a second, then spun away, arms raised, caroling, "Victory!"

00000

Spells: Molly-Breaker – essentially a wide-area disintegration spell, this breaks down molecular bonds, breaking the targeted molecules down to their constituent atoms – in theory. In practice, Laura cannot maintain sufficient precision to break molecular bonds, and instead dissolved inter-molecular bonds, using the spell to target common materials in clothing (cotton, wool, leather, and polyester).

00000

Author's Note: Yes, Laura is related to a lot of cops, and firemen. Those jobs, especially at a local level, tend to be family traditions, even in New England. Which is also one of the reasons she's such a wild-child, she's got an 'in' with the Law. If any of you are wondering, 'Molly-breaker' is one version of my first idea for Laura's prank on Noriko in Academy Blues, but I decided it was way too vicious. The hair-dye spell took longer to figure out. Also, the 'Occifer' is deliberate, as in "Occifer, occifer, I'm not as thunk as you drink I am."

00000

Kell Shock: Gah, my apologies on those mistakes in Lazy Harry's. I blame my laptop, naturally, or perhaps my cats. Should be fixed, now, thanks! Same for the mis-count in Sound & Fury. It was six students – I had trouble coming up with names and characters for them, before I realized they were, to put it bluntly, unnecessary. You are right, Hayate has a following, but think about it – if you had a teacher as life-changing as Hayate is for her kids, would you put up with drunken suggestions like Wozitsky's? I'd've decked him right off the bat, but I share a temper with Laura, Allison and Juliet, so...:).

Ace Starleaf: Thanks for the review, and if you'll look around, you should find Chapter 11 of Endless Waltz is now up as well.

CrimsonDX: You want 'story withdrawl', try following Innortal – he updates once in a blue moon as a matter of course, on long stories, and... ah, well, let's just say I can sympathize:). As for a non-spot-light character, that's what the Side Stories are for, yet I find I keep putting Laura in them. The 'Dreamtime' is the Australian Aborigine creation myth, both pre-creation and a spirit world, I think. Note that, while I've lived Down Under, that was before I started really studying mythology and story-telling, so my information is limited.

Qalia: Thanks for your support! Apparently I broke my writer's block finishing up Lazy Harry's.


	13. 13 Flight of the Old Dog

**Flight of the Old Dog**

A Path of Vengeance Side Story

By Daishi Prime

Setting Note: This takes place sometime during the one-year gap between the epilogue of Path of Vengeance and the prologue to Academy Blues.

Author's Note: Fair warning, unlike the other Side Stories, this one doesn't focus on a student – it's the detailing of some notes I had on what Takashi was doing between PoV and AB, as an explanation of some of the changes in him from morose mourner to semi-psychotic vigilante and over-protective pseudo-father.

00000

Takashi pondered the image for a few moments, looking over the young woman's face one last time, then waved the scrying window closed. For someone who looked nothing like his Aoi, she was nearly as good at confusing and aggravating him. Not quite the same way – there was no spark or fire there – but little Hayate was definitely Sara's successor, in more than just name or device.

He was honest enough, with himself, to admit that Hayate was probably the only reason he was still alive, and not just because she had freed him from the Hellblade and restored his form. Were that all she had done, Takashi would have had no reason left, no purpose, nothing to do. He was uncertain if he would have been able to suicide, but he would have faded away, which would have been worse, an ignominious and shameful end.

Hayate's insistence on 'saving' him, though, presented him with a conundrum. On the one hand, she was not even close to matching him magically. She was new to her Deva magic, and had a bare decade of experience with traditional magic to match his two decades. He was over a decade older than her, disregarding the twenty or so years trapped in the Hellblade, and was somewhere around twice her age counting that time. But the little girl was just as stubborn as Sara had been, and far more effective at it, far more social. What she lacked in experience, she more than made up for in sheer determination.

She had been getting oddly worse, since her friend's wedding. Prior to that, she had given him space once he was back to human form. He had slipped away, using the Hellblade's power to return to his people's homeworld along the edge of the Badlands, got his magic under control, got his form under control, and did his best to ignore that there even was a world beyond the Hellblade. He had, he realized, been fading even then. Since his visit during her friend's wedding, however, Hayate was proving almost annoying. He was uncertain how she was tracking him down or reaching him, but that hardly mattered. She could, and did.

Not that she was impolite, or cloying, she was simply there, at the most random times. Sometimes she wanted him to do something, or go somewhere, or see something, or just to say hello and find out what he was doing. Had he been able to predict when she would call, or what she would want, it would not have been nearly so annoying. He could have answered when he felt like it, avoided her when he wanted, and gone about his life uninterrupted. But he could not predict anything about her contacts, though fortunately she had yet to pull Sara's trick of simply appearing in the Hellblade's pocket dimension. And slowly, ever so slowly, he was learning how she was able to contact him, and how to block her, to limit her ability to interrupt him with random communications.

All of that left him both confused and curious about her. Why was she so determined, so stubborn? She had given no indication of being romantically interested, fortunately – he was uncertain if he would have run from such overtures, or attacked her. If anything, his observations over the last months had shown she treated him much the same way she treated her Knights, a cross between mothering and ruling. But he was not one of her Knights, and would never again submit to anyone else's command.

All in all, given her insistence on intruding in his life, Takashi felt no compunction about returning the favor. He had to be careful to avoid all the counter-intrusion defenses around the Bureau locations she frequented. He had to be even more careful anywhere she was, for her Knights had surrounded her with a veritable fortress of subtle wards, shields, and alarms. Those defenses were old, settled, but all the more effective for it. Then there was her own magic. Inexperienced with the Deva magic as she was, Hayate was demonstrably skilled, and had full access to Sara's notes. But caution and restraint were not the same thing, and Takashi was himself no beginner.

It took very little power, even at these ranges. A Deva scrying portal was, after all, nothing more than a fold in space to bring two points into congruence. Given the ever fluctuating and twisting nature of reality, manipulating a random fold into a useful form took a pittance of energy. The amplifications and magnifications necessary to allow sound and vision to pass through that minuscule point took more power than generating the congruence. So he passed quite a lot of time simply watching her, listening to her.

She was, in all respects, a fascinating creature. She was kind, forgiving, friendly, always smiling. At the same time, she commanded, she ruled, and she demonstrated an implacable will in pursuit of her justice. She showed a remarkable flexibility for one so young, remarkable maturity, and Takashi found himself wondering where that came from.

His most recent observations had been an attempt to find that out. Accessing Bureau records was difficult no matter where he was, though his location within the Hellblade did not make it easier. Accessing personnel histories without leaving a trace of his presence was almost impossible. But he had an easy way in, one the Bureau would never suspect – the Sword of Light. Just as Sara could access the Hellblade, Takashi could enter the Sword's pocket dimension, and Hayate had not yet closed it to him. From there, given Hayate's own accesses and the continuous monitoring the Sword was under as the Bureau struggled to understand it, Takashi could easily access Bureau systems and pretend to be someone else.

His investigations were proceeding, slowed by thoroughness more than caution. Those first years of Hayate's life, it was easy for him to see where her strength came from. What was missing was the compassion, the easy comfort with herself, that allowed her to stare him down without even a twitch. He thought he had found that, in the most recent reports concerning the awakening and sealing of the Tome of the Night Sky, but was distracted by life once more.

He was standing at the edge of the pit, staring across it at nothing, contemplating his most recent discoveries, when the Hellblade alerted him to an intruder. Calling up a screen, the device showed him a star-system schematic consisting of the world his parent's had been born on, its small moons, and now a single ship in orbit around it. Even as he watched, a number of smaller vessels separated from the ship, arcing down on independent paths towards the planet's surface, spreading out over the entire globe.

"Show me details on one lander," Takashi ordered.

Another screen appeared, bringing up a direct view of one lander. It was a circular shape, a shallow dome on one side, rough and irregular on the other. The smooth side impacted the atmosphere, began to glow, and the image froze, shifting from real-world to schematic. Ports and apertures appeared, analysis of the structures behind the heat-shield - atmosphere generators, microbe distributors, analyzers, energy relays, vehicle bays.

"It's a terraforming station," he muttered, worry fading to vague curiosity. It was inevitable that someone would attempt to settle his people's homeworld, even if it was less than a century since it was forcibly abandoned. While no longer capable of supporting human life – an atmosphere remained, supporting smaller, hardier lifeforms; microbes, mosses, small plants, insects – the planet was still very much habitable. Such worlds were tricky to terraform, requiring careful work to integrate the pre-existing lifeforms. Despite that finicky process, such worlds could also be prepared for colonists much more quickly and cheaply than a barren world.

Still, it had not been so very long ago that something catastrophic had happened here, just over fifty years, and rumors alone should have kept settlers away for decades yet. Only people seeking to avoid others would settle here, people like the pirates and criminals he had once hunted. But those people would not bother with terraforming, they would establish environmentally sealed structures of their own and leave the rest of the world to itself, if they even settled on the world instead of one of its satellites.

"Which will land closest to this position?" The large-scale view altered, course-projections appearing for each station, arcing down to the surface. One flashed green, and Takashi followed the projected course down. The lander would touch down less than twenty kilometers from Takashi's location. "Well, I should probably go greet my new neighbors. Secure for combat."

Extracting himself from the Hellblade's pocket dimension was simple enough, a matter of reflex more than thought. A moment of shifting, stretching, flowing, then he was standing on barren ground, harsh wind blowing across his face. A simple shield cut that, and processed the semi-toxic atmosphere into something breathable. Reaching down, he wrenched the Hellblade free of the rock he had stuck it in, slinging the blade over his shoulder.

For a few seconds, he stared down into the valley. It was almost a mirror of the one in the Hellblade, the original inspiration for the pocket dimension. Here, though, the only ruins visible were outside the valley, on the reverse slopes of the mountains. Inside the valley there was only rippled glass, the rock having melted in the original blast. In the center of the valley, a shifting oily dome stood, the Bureau's containment shields around the dimensional dislocation that had poisoned his homeworld.

Turning away from that, he looked up, and could already see the streaks of light from the landers' reentry. Five were visible in the sky, streaking towards the horizons and spreading out. With the Hellblade's assistance, it was simple enough to orient himself, and he took off, flying slowly enough to arrive after the lander.

Part of him wanted to go directly to the mother-ship. It would be easy enough to bypass their defenses, unless for some reason these terraformers had felt the need to build a top-of-the-line warship. But that would be rather aggressive and, while he had no problem doing that to the Bureau, he would probably give civilians a collective heart-attack. Hayate would no doubt have a lecture prepared for him, and he could clearly remember some of Aoi's chastising comments about such antics. So he watched the lander slow to a hover, before descending gently to the surface on landing-legs extended from the battered heat-shield.

While the lander progressed through its touch-down procedures, Takashi studied it, looking it over carefully. The structures looked fairly standard, though he did not remember this particular configuration. There was nothing illegal or questionable, however, just something new, to remind him how many years had passed since he walked the world, since Aoi lit up his life. So he stood there on a slight rise, just watching silently, letting the poisoned wind generated by the lander flow past his shields.

00000

"Um, Ferau? Something you need to see here?"

Ferau Tomal looked up from his own panel to glare at Mischa. The girl was always nervous, but she was good enough at her job not to use such a confused and frightened tone. Especially not when he, she, and the other three people on Lander Four had their hands full with touch-down and initializing the plant. "What's wrong?" 

Mischa looked up at him, hesitated a second, glanced back and forth between her screen and him, then fixed her gaze on the screen and reported, "There's someone out there, Ferau. There's a guy about a kilometer away, just standing there."

It was so manifestly impossible that it took him a few seconds to realize what she had said. "What?"

"I'm not lying!" Her voice went up an octave, and he realized she was terrified he was going to yell at her or something. "There's a man out there! In the open! He's got a long coat and a sword and he's just standing there like it's a sunny day in the park!"

"All right, all right, I believe you," Ferau reassured her, "just give me a second." He checked his own screen, verified that the automatics were running as well as could be expected, made sure Yaris, Elssi, and Morin were on top of their own responsibilities. Certain that he could leave things alone for a minute or so, he un-strapped from the landing couch, wormed his way out of the cramped command station, and staggered over to Mischa's station. Landing had been rough, and he had been stuck at his post for too many hours during approach and launch, so his legs were screaming. Finally reaching her station, he leaned on one of her side consoles and ordered, "Show me."

Mischa wordlessly pointed to her screen, bringing up a focused image from an external camera. Sure enough, there was some guy standing there, in blatant disregard of the un-breathable atmosphere and near-freezing temperatures. The fact that his black uniform did not even bother ruffling in the wind stirring the dirt around him made his presence even more aggravatingly impossible. Something about the man, even at this remove, made Ferau nervous, uncomfortable. "We sure he's really there? Someone on the mothership may be playing a joke."

Mischa shook her head, "I've been running diagnostics." She pointed at the console he was leaning on, "every sensor that can pick him up says he's there, but I haven't tried anything active yet. Computers're running fine, there's nothing in the area to mess with our sensors. I... I was actually a little nervous 'cause of how well it's all been going, and then the perimeter check got out that far, and... and... he's just... _there_. I..." she glanced about nervously, as if looking for an audience, before whispering, "I think he's a _mage_."

Ferau managed – just barely – not to roll his eyes. Mischa's family was from well out in the boonies, and all she knew about mages was the local info-feed and classes. She did not even seem to understand the terraforming plant she was operating ran on magic as much as mundane technology. She seemed to regard mages with a sort of fascinated fear, superstitious to a ridiculous degree, and he had not had the heart to tell her that not only was he a mage, she probably was as well, given how well she interfaced with her control station. Not that it would ever make much of a difference, he was barely strong enough to receive the basic training in not hurting himself, and she was no stronger, but he understood the principles too well to find her superstition anything other than annoying.

"Of course he's a mage," Ferau said, "but gods know what he's doing here. Has he tried communicating at all?"

"No, he's just standing there. Watching."

"Well, so long as that's all he does, he's not our worry. Send a contact report up to the mothership, then carry on with your initialization duties."

"Okay," Mischa replied doubtfully, but she did it.

Ferau returned to his own station and work, to find things getting just a little out of whack, just enough that he had to work twice as hard to get things back on an even keel. It was another three hours before the plant was fully initialized, anchored in place, power-core up to full operating levels, and the various generators, distributors, monitors, and vaults were into their automated waking sequences. At that point, he and his crew had their first scheduled break and, on release from the mothership, were allowed to get up and stretch, relax for an hour or so, until the atmosphere generator finished warming up and had to be calibrated and started.

The unidentified man was still standing on the rise outside, watching, unmoving. Mischa had routed a camera to the tiny mess-room's wall screen by the time Ferau got there, with Yaris, Elssi, and Morin all looking him over distrustfully. Ferau was about to join them when motion in the door across the room caught his eye, at an angle behind the others, and he choked in shock.

"You're security is abysmal," the unknown mage commented as he strolled into the room. "I would have expected better from a terraforming crew operating so close to the Badlands." Ferau's crew jumped at the unexpected voice, Mischa going so far as to drop behind a table to hide.

Insulting as his words were, there was something about the man that made Ferau far more nervous than angry. Still, this was his lander, his responsibility, and this man was an uninvited intruder. "Who are you? How did you get aboard and what in the gods' names are you doing _here_?"

One dark eyebrow rose, the man smirked at him. "I got aboard through a simple phase teleport, passing through the fabric of reality to move from where I was, to where I am, leaving a comprehensive illusion in my place to keep you from interfering with my investigations. As for who I am, my name is Shimazu Takashi. I was once a Bureau officer, now... 'retired'."

That got a reaction, but probably not the one the mage was expecting. Yaris reached for a sidearm she no longer carried, hissing, "Bureau!" The fear and hatred on her face was mirrored, less powerfully, on the others.

"_Former _Bureau," Takashi replied, turning his smirk to Yaris. He did not even gesture, but black lines appeared around her wrists and ankles, locking her in place. "Don't be hasty, child. I am here for information, not violence." He turned back towards Ferau, "Now, I have answered your first questions, you will give me the same information about yourselves. Who are you, and what are you doing here? I gather from your reactions that you are attempting to avoid the Bureau. Why?"

"We're lead team for a colony," Ferau told him. "Survey showed this world uninhabited, and we filed a colonization claim with our governments. The colony is drawn from several systems, several nations, of people tired of the Time Space Administration Bureau lording it over everyone like kings. We're tired of them using their precious charter as an excuse to tell us how to live, so we're founding a colony outside their jurisdiction. The colony fleet will be here in three months, once we've had a chance to regenerate the atmosphere."

Takashi's amusement faded from his face as Ferau explained. "You picked a bad place to set up a colony the Bureau would object to. I may no longer be Bureau, but that is due to policy, rather than ideals. If you have some expectation of utilizing or creating forbidden magic, I'm afraid you are going to be greatly disappointed in my response."

"It's not magic," Morin muttered, "most of us couldn't care less about magic. It's the other things. The travel restrictions, the taxes, the violations of our laws, forcing us to modify our lives and worlds to suit outsiders. We just want to be left alone."

Ferau was surprised when that softened Takashi's expression. "Ah, so," the stranger muttered, "refugees from politics, seeking to hold on to outdated traditions." He nodded sharply, once, then fixed his gaze on Ferau. "Pass on to your leaders. I will permit this colony to proceed, on two conditions. First, there is a valley north of here, in the center of which is a permanent Bureau containment field. That valley is off-limits, no one is allowed to enter or over-fly it. I'll allow orbital over-flights, but nothing in atmosphere, and no attempts to enter or contact the valley."

Ferau shuddered at the thought of going in there, "That's already in our regs. Nobody wants to mess with whatever was in there. What's your second condition?"

"This world is mine, colonist. My parents were the last generation born on this world, I was in the first generation of my people born off this world. This is _my_ people's world, and I am willing to _loan_ it to you and yours. But it is only a loan. This is my world, and my law is final. I will not dictate your lives to you, but when I speak, you and yours will listen, or find yourselves a new world. If you doubt my ability to do so, consider this... the Bureau itself is terrified of my wrath. Do not bring it down on your own heads."

00000

An hour later, Ferau was talking to Captain Hirigawa and Director Asun, the actual and official leaders, respectively, of the terraforming expedition, along with the Asun's staff. They were extremely unhappy about the intruder, especially his ridiculous ultimatum, and most of the conversation consisted of Asun alternating between panic and outrage, and Hirigawa trying to calm him and everyone else down. Ferau concentrated on staying out of it, answering questions when asked, but not offering anything.

It was Lieutenant Tetrault, Hirigawa's aide who finally stopped the useless arguments. "Sir, there are really three questions here," she said, when she finally got the tumult quiet enough to allow. "First, can he really do what he claimed, and force us off this world? Second, if the answer to the first is 'yes', then will he do it? Third, and probably most important, can we afford to go along with him?"

Hirigawa gave her a searching look, then said, "You've found something."

"Yes sir," Tetrault nodded. "We still have the communications relays back to Askari, and I sent back a search request as soon as Ferau gave us the name. Came back fast, too. Shimazu Takashi, Bureau Captain, retired. Last listed eval rated him at double-A-plus, but that was when he was a Lieutenant. Something happened about the time he became Captain, and his strength is officially listed as 'not measurable with current techniques'. No explanation of what that means, but the history should answer that – he single-handedly destroyed seven Bureau warships in less than a year. There's some note about how he was absolved of those crimes, that it was his device gone rogue, but still."

"You're saying he can carry through with his threat," Asun whispered in a shocked voice.

"I'm saying he can and he will, sir."

Hirigawa grunted, then said, "and from the sound of it, he won't fear the Bureau, even if we were willing to begging to them for help. So, that leaves us with your third question, Tetrault. Can we live with him?"

"We shouldn't have to!" Asun was now sounding somewhat petulant rather than panicked, but he was getting hold of himself again. "He's one man, and whatever his claims, his people ceded all claim to this world before he was even born. He has no right to make such ultimatums. But," Asun looked like he was chewing on a lemon, but admitted, "you're right, Tetrault. We can't risk that he is as powerful and as insane as the Bureau's questionable records indicate. Ferau, you're certain he made no specific pronouncements?"

Ferau shook his head, "only the one about not entering the valley, sir. From his warnings, he still holds to traditional views on the uses of magic, but as long as we don't do anything that would attract the Bureau, I think he'll leave us alone. I think that's what he wants, mostly – to be left alone."

"His wife was murdered by a fellow officer," Tetrault added. "There's also this to consider. If he is as formidable as the record indicates, and is as protective of this world as it appears, he'll be very useful against pirates. Those of us in the Defense Forces are capable, and we'll do our best, but we have always planned on calling for help in the event of a major pirate attack. Takashi may prevent such an attack merely by his presence here, and could probably be talked into helping defeat one."

"I wouldn't recommend suggesting that to him," Ferau said. "Like I said, I got the impression he wants to be left alone."

"Caution is indicated," Hirigawa agreed. "I think, for the moment, we will carry on as planned, and simply do our best to ignore him. So long as we leave him alone, nothing in our plans or intentions should give him cause to interfere. If, as Ferau suspects, he is here for the solitude, he will probably return the favor. Moving on, what is the current status on the time-table?"

00000

Takashi watched the terraformers with mild interest, splitting his time about three to one between observing and researching little Hayate and watching his new neighbors. They scrupulously avoided his valley, but he had no compunctions about moving among them, physically or magically, to monitor the entire operation.

They were an efficient bunch, for civilians. Too relaxed for the dangers of the area, but not completely lost to chaos like normal civilians. He expected, when they began, that they would need the better part of a year to recover the world for habitation. They did it in three months, at least the basics. There were no forests or jungles, no swaths of wildlife, but the basics were there. Grasses were scattered, bushes and trees planted, various fish released to the oceans, all hardy species that could survive in difficult and varied environments. Those transplants provided the basis on which a full ecology would be built, continuing naturally what the atmosphere processors took two months to seriously begin.

By the time the colony ships themselves arrived, the atmosphere was breathable if generally foul-smelling, the toxins in the sands were fading, and the wide-ranging shivers of dimensional instability left over from the catastrophe were mostly cleansed. His people's world was living again, slowly and sickly, but living.

The colony fleet brought a single warship along with it, but only one, and that having last seen active service about the time Takashi had. It even looked like the same class as his old ship, the _Deva_, though it lacked Bureau markings. In the fleet it 'escorted' there were almost thirty colony ships, each no doubt holding several thousand people and all the materials, seeds, livestock, and heavy equipment they would need to create a functional society on a new world. They were sheep guarded by a tired arthritic old hound.

Behind them, long before their defenders noticed, Takashi found the sharks. A small ship, fast and stealthy, trailing along to find out where the juicy target was going to ground. He almost went out to destroy it out of hand, but could not work up the interest. One pirate scout, more or less, would make no difference in the long or short run. This colony would still be found, still be attacked, still be wiped out of existence. Such was the fate of those who sought to escape civilization but did not understand the barbarism that lived where civilization did not.

He felt unaccountably guilty for days after the scout vanished, and sometimes could almost hear a niggling little voice, _'you're better than this, Takashi.'_

00000

It was almost a month later that the pirates attacked. Fading out of super-light close enough to the planet to upset its tides, the lone heavily armed vessel needed time to sort itself out and lock onto the warship, but the colonists' warship needed more time. The pirates entry maneuver – not only banned but generally considered suicidal, put them much too far inside the colony's sensor perimeter to give the colony's defenders time to react. They were still preparing for battle when the pirates first shots crashed out. The crew of the warship fought valiantly, but they were out-gunned, out-maneuvered, and unprepared. Even before the warship died, more small scouts were appearing further out, and shuttles launched from the pirate's lead vessel, spreading out to pin the colonists' ships in place and approach the planet.

Takashi watched the battle from the edge of his valley. The Hellblade had informed him when the pirate warship arrived, and he faded into reality once more. Between the sword, his own magic, and his naked eyes, it was easy enough to follow the battle. Hirigawa obviously had some creative people with him, but nowhere near what he needed. Takashi watched the finale, then turned to return to his valley. The pirates would not bother him, for fear of the valley's contents.

Then that little voice spoke up again, so sweet yet so accusing. _'You're better than this, Takashi. You're a hero, a soldier, a defender of the weak. At least, you were.'_

It was unnerving how much it sounded like Aoi, yet lacked the sense of her. He knew what it was - a figment of his imagination, his conscience and old personality trying to reassert themselves where he was vulnerable, using her voice – but that knowledge did not make it any less effective. "Shut up, you," he snarled at nothing. "I'm no officer anymore."

_'No, but you're still Aoi's Takashi, still the Black Hand of Deva's Angel. You owe it to her to live up to her image of you, ne?'_

"I don't owe her anything," he muttered, but it sounded hollow even to him. She had died on him, yes, when it was his place to die for her. But she had never been very good at following traditions, and had made it clear, in her own odd-ball way, that such a sacrifice from him was unacceptable. She had just been quicker off the mark in saving him than he had been in saving her.

_'You owe her everything,'_ the little voice countered, _'and all she wants is what you were.'_

"The Black Hand is dead," Takashi stated.

_'Yet you live. Or do you? Will you hide here, or will you let Aoi have her final victory?'_

"The Black Hand is dead," he repeated. then turned his face upwards, sighing slightly, "But the Dragon remains. Hellblade," the sword wrenched free of the ground, leaping to his hand, "let us see if Aoi and Hayate succeeded or not."

His first instinct was brutally direct – a shift here, a charge there, and a gravitic lens would form, launching everything in orbit, probably all three moons, and a good chunk of the atmosphere into the sun. The lens would fade, but not before accelerating everything caught by it up to a sizable fraction of lightspeed, far too fast for any ship to alter its trajectory or safely jump dimensions and escape. No mess, no fuss, no more pirates, no more habitable world.

"No," He muttered, spell half-formed, "where's the fun in that?"

_'Good boy, Takashi. Aoi won't approve of slaughter.'_

"She's going to get one anyhow." Altering the spell, forming it carefully to make it stable and reliable, Takashi smirked as he pictured the pirates' coming consternation. To make sure of that, he formed a wide-band broadcast, a telepathic signal that would reach everyone. _ 'Attention all sentients in this system. I am Shimazu Takashi. Any vessel attempting to land on or orbit from the planet will be summarily destroyed. Any pirate is hereby given ten minutes to surrender unconditionally to me. Attempts to flee or continue the violence will be met with summary execution. Attempts to resist me will be met with overwhelming force. Nine minutes fifty-five seconds and counting.'_

Then he released the spell, black lines spraying out from his raised hands, multiplying and splitting as they climbed and spread. Within seconds, a fine black web stretched around the planet, leaving no space between the lines larger than a human hand.

00000

"Gods be praised," Hirigawa muttered, relaxing back in his command couch for the first time in almost two hours. The rumbling, echoing voice in his head had been almost enough to give him a headache, but the intervention was a welcome relief, especially that blatantly impossible shield over the planet. Most of the colony's people were planet-side by now, relatively safe.

From the small comm-screen by his knee, Asun demanded, "For what? He's one mage!"

"For rescue," Hirigawa replied. "Most of the population is planet-side already, they're safe. The Guard down there can handle those pirates that already landed."

"But most of the heavy materials are still up there! The pirates will steal or destroy most of what's up there with you!"

Hirigawa shook his head, "Doesn't matter. Takashi alone will terrify them, possibly enough to make them run. Tetrault, try to reach him to see what his plans are."

She shook her head, "I don't think I'll be able to, sir, and shouldn't need to. He's coming here." Pointing to the main screen, she highlighted a single energy signature. "That's him, sir, rising into orbit."

The signal fluctuated, flashing slightly. A connection formed between it and a smaller pirate ship, a moment before that ship vanished. "Whoa," Tetrault muttered, "That much power... I think our ship's cannons could manage that."

The terraforming mothership, still the colony-fleet's flagship, shuddered abruptly, and Hirigawa glanced over at the tactical station. "Director Asun, I am afraid we are being boarded. The pirate flagship just force-docked with us. I am formally transferring command to you and the Guard officers on the ground. Don't worry about us, focus on preserving those already on the ground. We will defend to the last, and with Takashi's aid, should prevail. Do not attempt a rescue."

"But, Hirigawa..."

"Tetrault's been doing some research," Hirigawa smiled, "The Black Hand, they called him. He was almost as famous in his day as the White Devil is today. I'm confident, Asun. But I'm not taking any risks with our people. We'll be in touch when this is over."

It took the pirates boarding the terraforming vessel ten minutes to force their way to the bridge. 'Guard' or not, none of Hirigawa's people were equipped with anything heavier than stun-pistols, and his few trained mages were low-level, nowhere near the levels of skill and viciousness of the pirates. His crew fought back, but numbers and relentless force overwhelmed them, until half the crew not below on the plants had been herded into the bridge.

The pirates did not kill them out of hand, which was depressingly normal. They would, Hirigawa knew, hold the crew hostage against Takashi and those on the surface, demanding the colony's complete surrender. Once they had that, they would hunt among the colonists for those with usable skills, drag those unfortunates off, and – if the colonists were very lucky – leave the 'useless' to fend for themselves.

Only the pirates miscalculated. They had their hostages, but the one they most needed to fear was no colonist. A scarred man, radiating power and garishly dressed, arrived on the bridge behind the last of Hirigawa's crew, stepped onto Hirigawa's command balcony to issue his threats, only to be interrupted. Takashi's arrival was simple, and all the more intimidating for it. He simply walked out of nothing, a shadow in the air solidifying into him, striding on empty air, black coat and uniform flowing around him, hands in his pockets, the Hellblade on his back. He paused in the center of the bridge space, ignoring the weapons pointed at him to disdainfully survey the scene.

"Pirates," he growled. "You are not surrendering quickly enough."

Hirigawa stiffened slightly as Takashi's voice sounded in his mind, _'Hirigawa. Are all your people wearing their colonial beacons?'_

Surprised Takashi was bothering with him, it took Hirigawa a second to reply. _'Most of them, the pirates don't seem to be taking them yet.'_ The beacons were wrist IDs, used to track personnel, trigger the automatic doors, prevent airlocks from opening on unprepared crew and passengers, and retrieve any EVA personnel who lost their hold on the ship.

"Well, well, well," the pirate leader said, planting a foot on Hirigawa's chair to rest an elbow on his knee. "So you're the one claiming to be the Black Hand, eh?"

Takashi's eyes narrowed slightly. "The Black Hand is dead. You lead this rabble?"

"Yeah, that I do," pirate grinned back. "I have to admit, if you really are Shimazu... you're one of my idols, you know? You did such a number on the Bureau, after doing such a number on us free-spirits... your kill record is still one of the best, and the sheer style of it all is just awe inspiring. Are you really him? If so... I've been looking forward to a contest like this, someone worth killing, someone who might be strong enough to kill me."

Hirigawa watched Takashi's face freeze at the first comments, then smirk slightly as the pirate rambled on, and realized the man had made a terrible mistake. Takashi was almost laughing as he asked, "Is that a challenge, pirate?"

"Aye, it is."

"Very well, then." Takashi held up a hand, and a swirl of blackness solidified in his hand. "You may teleport through the barrier to the planet below. I will await you there. If you are not there within sixty-seconds, this spell will release, destroying all life in this system save myself. Before you think to threaten your hostages, keep in mind – they are intruders in my system. While I despise you, I merely do not care about them. Sixty seconds, now." Then he spun in place and walked into nothingness, leaving the black sphere turning slowly in place.

The pirate snorted, "Start scouring the ship, boys. I'll be back once I have a little fun with the nancy-boy." His exit was significantly flashier than Takashi's, involving full sigils and a massive flux of power.

Hirigawa studied that, his own magical training giving him rather more information than the pirate would have expected. He sniffed derisively, and commented, loud enough for everyone to hear, "Fool. He can't even be A-rank, and he thinks to fight Takashi alone? I would suggest, pirates..."

He never finished that suggestion. The black sphere pulsed once, and there was time for a single gasp of terror, before it exploded. Black lightning streaked from the sphere, lancing through every pirate on the bridge, more lines of it tearing through the doors and passages. The lightning even passed through Hirigawa and his crew, pinning them in place momentarily.

Where it passed through a colonist, it left them with a nauseous tingling sensation, a skittering of vertigo and enervation. Where it passed through a pirate, it left a cloud of ash and a sickening stench. Hirigawa managed to hold onto his lunch, and his demeanor, and Tetrault managed to mostly imitate him, but the same could not be said of most of those with him. Not that he could hold it against any of them.

So he was on his feet when Takashi contacted him telepathically, _'Hirigawa, what is your status?'_

_'A little ill, but intact. What did you do? I thought you agreed to leave the pirates alone?'_

_'I lied,'_ Takashi replied easily. _'They're only pirates, dregs. I gave them a quicker easier death than enduring the Bureau's trials. Any of your people not wearing their beacons would also have been killed. My apologies. The spell will not reach the planet's surface, however. Too many of your planet-side colonists do not have their beacons. I suggest you focus on regaining control up there. Do not forget to salvage the pirate ships, you may be able to sell them, but they will be more valuable as replacements for your lost warship. Now, if you will excuse me, my prey has deigned to arrive.'_

Takashi delivered the entire thing – pronouncing the deaths of hundreds of people, and his apology for however many colonists – in an emotionless tone that was more suited to a comm directory. His recommendations, his analysis, all of it was the same, no different from a computer, and that was difficult enough. But the last, the sense of anticipation and vague predatory pleasure, the sarcastic superiority, sent a shiver down Hirigawa's spine. Takashi's voice was long gone before Hirigawa could reply, fortunately.

_What is he?_ Hirigawa wondered privately, _and what have we aligned ourselves with in accepting his presence?_

00000

Standing halfway between his valley and the nearest terraforming plant, Takashi could not fail to miss the pirate's teleport. The man wasted energy like a raw cadet, but he obviously had a solid device to teleport that accurately through Takashi's barrier, and on such short notice. Still, the pirate would hardly be a challenge, nowhere near enough strength or skill for even luck to make him dangerous.

Takashi was not even certain why he had agreed to the pirate's challenge. He had gone into orbit with the intention of personally slaughtering every pirate up there. There was no malice in it, simply the desire for thoroughness and certainty. He would make sure this band of pirates was destroyed almost to the man, leaving a few terrified survivors to spread the word that this world's owner was far too powerful to anger. Personal challenges and single combat had no place in that plan.

But the pirate's attitude, his comments, had sparked something. Killing the pirate out of hand was not enough, not a fitting response. Takashi's own pride would not let him walk away from such arrogance, so he had accepted the challenge. Watching the pirate walk towards him, Takashi made an easy decision. _The Hellblade can handle him. It should be interesting, to see how it varies from its old Sword of Night form._

The blade lifted free of his back, rotating upright and floating ahead of him. The pirate opened his mouth to speak, and the Hellblade struck. A sphere of black appeared at its tip, cherry-sized, then the sword snapped forward to point at the pirate, launching the sphere. "Dark Bullet," Takashi muttered with a grimace, "I suppose it is traditional for duels to start small, but really, that's almost insulting." He almost chuckled as the sword shifted slightly, feeling faintly annoyed.

The sphere was nearly as fast as its namesake, but the pirate was prepared, and the attack detonated against a simple flat-plane shield. A standard response for a standard opening move, but something about it caught Takashi's attention. Ignoring the Hellblade's attacks for now, he focused on the pirate's defenses, and found himself mildly impressed. The man was obviously experienced and, while just as inefficient and flashy as Takashi had first thought, not as talentless as first impressions suggested. The man was nowhere near Bureau standards for his position, but for a pirate he was very good, enough to give most Enforcers a bit of trouble.

Still, as he stood there watching his sword do battle with the pirate, Takashi was left with a distinctly unsatisfied feeling. The man was good for what he was, but nowhere near Takashi's level. It was rapidly becoming annoying, watching the Hellblade toy with the pirate. So within a few minutes, as the Hellblade was just reaching the levels of spells Akira had used in pursuit of the Sword of Light, Takashi stepped in. Striding past the Hellblade, he wrapped one hand in a sheath of power, a partial dimensional jump that would let him bypass the pirate's shield.

Only the pirate was craftier than Takashi gave him credit for. Takashi reached him moments behind the Hellblade's latest attack, a Brimstone Spear which left the man hidden behind a cloud of smoke and debris. As Takashi reached his position, however, the pirate's shield detonated, an outward blast that cleared dissipated the cloud and was followed almost instantly by a buster-spell. Takashi got his hand around to defend himself, but the very spell to bypass the pirate's shield let the attack through, and blast of energy struck him low in the center of his torso, making him grunt in pain and stagger back.

The entire exchange was a shock, and Takashi had to pause and step back to take stock. The injury was nothing, a hole in his barrier jacket and a few layers of skin burned off, some blood set free – nothing, he could heal that in a few days. What bothered him was that it happened at all. Was he getting that rusty, or had the pirate just gotten lucky? Had he screwed up, or was the pirate better than he thought? Was he seriously injured as it felt, or just scratched as was more likely? Before he could answer that, though, he felt the Dragon rising, felt the singing hollow in his throat that presaged the change.

"What's the matter, big-man," the pirate said, panting with exertion. "One little hit put you out? Tche, my grandmother could'a taken that hit."

"Fool," Takashi muttered, straightening, struggling against the change. "Nothing has made me bleed in over thirty years. You're about to see why."

Letting go felt so good, a release of the pressure and surrender to instinct that, for just a moment, made everything seem so very easy. Then the pain hit, agony searing through him as his limbs lengthened, bones shifted, new muscles and skeleton forming, skin stretching before bursting into scales. The three wrenches as wings and tail burst from his back, the rapid-fire snapping sensation as his neck elongated, the shattering pain as his skull restructured, all of it was just punctuation to the myriad agonies of altering himself from human to dragon, from mage to monster.

It continued to surprise him, just how much the Dragon altered his view of the world, in both physical and metaphysical terms. As Takashi, he was withdrawn, haunted, seeking to be left alone and mourn for his Aoi. As the Dragon, he was a pitiless hunter and destroyer, amused by the struggles of the prey and uncaring of yesterday or tomorrow. As Takashi, there were only a few people he was at all interested in, and he had trouble working up any great emotions beyond the curiosity over Hayate and sorrow for lost Aoi. As the Dragon, he cared less than nothing about most, but the sight of a mage woke a hatred so intense it was almost berserker rage. Then there was the fact that as Takashi, he was an average human, but as the Dragon, people were so puny, and the world so small. It was confusing, intriguing, and even as the shift was forced on him by instinct and injury, Takashi could not help contemplating it.

The pirate, exercising brilliant survival instincts, recognized an unworkable situation and attempted to teleport. Unfortunately for him, he tried it without running first, and Takashi's change, for all its pain, was over in seconds. Even as the circles of runes formed to control and direct the teleport, Takashi's claw slashed through them, dissipating the power in a flash that should have launched even his bulk for meters. Instead, his claw carried through, crashing into the pirate and closing around him in a crushing grip.

Takashi almost killed him there. It would have been so very easy, given the frailties of the human form. He could generate enough force with his claws to crush steel or shred stone. Next to that, breaking a human was nothing. But once again that voice reached him, _'That's enough, Takashi. Relax, come back to normal.'_

It took a great deal of effort, but he managed to control himself. Instead of crushing the pirate outright, he slammed the man into the ground and pinned him in place. Breathing just a little differently, almost like a deliberate gagging, the necrotic energies released ate through the pirate's boots and feet in moments. Confident he would not be going anywhere, Takashi stepped away, then forced the dragon back into slumber. Even now he could not fully explain how he did it, save that it was related to the linker core Aoi gave him. It hurt just as much going back to human, but never seemed to require much energy. This time it even taught him something, as the wound on his stomach was gone.

Once he was human again, he put his hands back in his pockets and returned to the pirate, feeling the Hellblade settle onto his back. The pirate was curled up in a fetal position, trying to hold onto ribs and feet at the same time, face a mask of pain, but he was still conscious, still aware. Shifting back from Takashi's approach, he managed to rasp, "What are you?"

"I am Shimazu Takashi," he answered, "The Black Dragon. You were not worth my time."

"Hah," the pirate laughed, "You're over-rated. Fell Blade!" The flash of power was hardly a surprise after that warning, a short sharp buster spell. Takashi and the Hellblade were prepared this time, and the sword formed a Graveward in a moment, absorbing the blast. _Apparently I was not paying sufficient attention, _Takashi decided,_ this one was very good at fast spells, his busters, at least._

Letting the Graveward fall, Takashi considered for a moment, then decided this fell under 'resistance with force'. Holding out one hand, he commented, "You should be honored. This is the spell that introduced my wife to me. Sunspike." The opposing fields generated within his cupped hand, then the initial blast fired, followed by a ravening column of plasma. The magical containment crashed into the pirate's barrier jacket and dissipated, but opened a hole in the jacket to liberate the star-hot plasma within the pirate's defenses.

Takashi studied his handiwork for a moment, then shrugged and walked away. _'Hirigawa,'_ He sent telepathicaly, _'I leave the rest to you. Do with them what you will, I do not care.'_

00000

It took the colonists the better part of a day to deal with the pirates who had managed to reach the planetary surface, and salvage the ghost-ships Takashi's spell left in orbit. A few of those ships crashed, into each other or into colonial vessels, but most of them simply drifted, and were eminently reusable. If Hirigawa's people were a creative as Takashi thought, the captured pirate vessels might actually be an improvement on the ship they had lost.

Roughly a standard day after the attack, Takashi approached the colonists' primary landing site. It was on the far side of the planet from his valley, and had come through the attack almost unscathed. Several pirate shuttles had landed there, but faced with Takashi's spell over their heads and the colonist's Guard before them, they had held off until the situation in orbit stabilized, then wisely surrendered. Now, watching from a hill several kilometers off, it was easy for Takashi to pick out the prisoners. They were being kept in a small improvised camp a kilometer or so from the city. There were only a few hundred of them, nothing to the colonists hundred thousand plus, but they were also under very small guard. There was not even a fence around the camp, for there was nothing outside the camp but partially-terraformed world.

Waiting where he landed, Takashi waited as Hirigawa, Asun, and their aides approached in a small convoy of vehicles. They had requested the meeting, but he was not sure why, nor was he sure why he had agreed, save that it had been reflexive. He was still wondering about that as the vehicles rolled to a halt and the crowd disembarked.

Naturally, that niggling little voice chose that moment to disturb him again. _'You did well, Takashi. Not perfectly, but well enough. Aoi would be proud of you.'_

Takashi snorted at that, "Aoi was never 'proud' of me. Confused, intrigued, in love with, yes. 'Proud'? She thought I was a lucky fool, originally."

_'She was proud of you,'_ the voice insisted, "After all, she said so in her diary."

"No one can follow her diaries, not even her," Takashi countered. Then he started, realizing the second sentence had not been telepathic. Jerking around, he was surprised to find Hayate standing next to him, the Sword on her back and the Staff in hand. She did not have a barrier jacket up, however, merely her uniform.

"I can follow her diaries," Hayate told him, "and had them removed from the Infinity Library, before someone else figured out enough to hurt themselves. She was proud of you, Takashi. In addition to all the rest you said."

For some reason, seeing her standing there with no defenses up aggravated him, especially when a rapid scan of the area showed no trace of her knights. "What are you doing here? Where are your guards?"

Hayate looked up at him, and gave him a small, almost patronizing, smile. "I was curious," she answered, "to see what has had you so distracted you were no longer spying on me continuously. As for my Knights, I am safe enough on your world, and I think neither you nor your new neighbors would appreciate a full Bureau Enforcer squadron on your doorstep." She turned back to the crowd and gestured, "Pay attention, Takashi, your guests are here."

Hirigawa was the first to speak, "Takashi-san. Who is this?"

"She's Bureau," Asun hissed.

He started to say something else, but Takashi cut him off with a finger, still not looking away from Hayate. "Bring up your shields," he ordered, "or I'll bring them up for you." She started to argue, then sighed heavily and nodded. A moment later, her barrier jacket was in place and she gave him a questioning look. "Good enough," he muttered, "do not go wandering in hostile areas without taking precautions. You're better than that."

Then he turned to Asun, who was still staring at him in blatant fear. "You," Takashi growled, stepping close to tower over the man. "_You_ will be polite to my daughter, or I will have your hide. She is no threat to you, and if you ever become a threat to her, you will regret doing so. Hirigawa," he looked over at the Guard commander, "I'll be with you in a moment."

He turned in place and started to reach for Hayate's shoulder but paused. She did not move, so much as look at him, in a manner that distinctly reminded him of his mother. Instead, he walked past her he said, "Over here."

Hayate grinned at him and fell into step beside him, before asking, "I'm curious about the last spell you used, Takashi. The… solar spike?"

"Sunspike," he corrected, "a core of mundane plasma generated by magical effect, wrapped inside a pure-magic buster. The outer shell will defeat a pure-physical defense, the plasma will defeat most pure-magic defenses."

"You should be more careful with it," Hayate said. "Reaching into the heart of a star for plasma is dangerous, the gravitational and special compression can easily over-charge the pull…" He tried to keep it in, since it broke his image, in the end, he could not help cutting her off with a burst of laughter. He managed to keep it short, but the grin took a while to fade. He could almost feel the colonials flinch, but Hayate merely frowned at him. "What?"

"The first conversation I had with Aoi was over that spell. She sensed me working on it, demanded a demonstration, then lectured me on exactly the same dangers you just did. Sunspike is not a teleport spell. It generates the plasma out of local atmosphere. The 'teleport' you're sensing is a massively focused compression field squeezing atmospheric gasses until they begin to fuse. Now, what are you doing here?"

"You had a difficult situation to deal with," Hayate told him, "even after you decided to help. I wanted to make sure you are handling it well, see if this was a one-time thing, or if you are truly recovering."

"I am not interested in returning to the Bureau," Takashi muttered.

"Not what I was asking. Even with the salvage windfall, these people are going to need help against any serious attack. They were fortunate this time, in that you were both present and willing. Will you still be 'willing' next time? Will you still be here, next time? Or are you going to go back to hiding in your valley and spying on me?"

Takashi had to think about it for a time, turning it over in his mind. "To be honest, I'm not sure. This is my world. I am not about to relinquish that claim, not for these colonists, not for you. But… I think it is time I moved on. There are things out there to study, to explore. The Badlands are infamous, and retaining control of myself and my magic while studying them would be challenge. There is also the fact that I know you are looking beyond the Bureau, mostly due to their treatment of you after you inherited Sarah's gift. When you leave, I will need to take steps to keep an eye on you. So… if I am here, they will have my assistance. If I am not, it will depend on why I am away."

"Hmmm, well, that is better than I was led to expect, but not quite what I had hoped," Hayate said. "Still, and improvement. I'm glad to hear it. But you won't need to follow me, Takashi. I'm just going back home."

"And I will make sure you are safe there, as I promised."

She glared at him for a moment. "You don't need to do that."

"It's a father's prerogative."

"You're not my father."

He chuckled again, then reached out to rest his fingers on the Sword of Light's pommel. "So long as you carry this, you are my Aoi's heir, and thus her child, which makes you my daughter. Now, if you will excuse me, my tenants are nervous and I should probably reassure them."

00000

Author's Note: This one occurred to me while re-reading Academy Blues. It was originally intended to be an explanation of one of his comments to Hayate when he interrupted the 'first night' dinner, "something interesting out in the Badlands." It evolved from that into something else, especially once I realized Hayate had as much reason to be spying on him as he has to spy on her. So the colony is not what he referenced there, but is related. As for the colonists reasons – I find it very had to believe that an organization as powerful and wide-spread as the Bureau is universally loved. Given that, it shouldn't be that hard to believe that some of the Bureau worlds have people who would rather not live under Bureau jurisdiction, but aren't necessarily interested in messing around with forbidden magics. From the first two series, I gathered the impression that Midchilda is sort of the 'cutting edge' of magic, where it's all-pervasive and all known, but didn't get much idea of what the rest of Bureau space is like. So, I imagine there are probably wide ranges of 'magical saturation', like the differences in technology between Silicon Valley, with its wall-to-wall high-end computers and central Africa where _people_ are hard to come by, let alone electricity. Most of the colonists come from 'middle of the road' places, where magic is known, but not all-pervasive. And finally, I still haven't been able to come up with any Side Story ideas for the new kids. Hope you enjoyed this one, at least.


	14. 14 Play the Odds

**Play the Odds**

An Endless Waltz Side Story

By Daishi Prime

"NO! Miss, damn you, miss! Gaahhh, noooo! Damn it, that goalie needs a seeing-eye-dog! You're supposed to be good enough for pro!"

Chen-chi glanced up from her notebook, caught the changing scoreboard, and slapped Ginger lightly on the elbow, before the older girl's gesticulations hit her. "Relax, will you? Your precious Pumas are still winning."

Ginger grumbled something back as she slipped into her seat, but all Chen-chi caught was, "by enough."

That made her laugh. "Please, Ginger, I've told you a million times, you don't bet the point spread on anything but full pro games. There's too much variability in skill at the lower levels to call the spread, especially in a game as low-scoring as football."

"Yeah, yeah," Ginger said, "but I need a little extra this week. Suan's taking me to the movies, and he's starting to get pushy. I need to make sure I've got enough to take _him _out for once."

Ginger, and the cluster of other teenagers around her, made Chen-chi stand out, but she had long since stopped noticing. She had skipped a couple grades years earlier based on ridiculous math skills and a quick wit, as well as a hefty bit of bribery, so being surrounded people three to six years her senior was normal. There were occasions and subjects – such as dating – that still made Chen-chi embarrassed, but she was getting pretty good at ignoring or hiding it. Especially since everyone knew her by now, and most were content to leave her be.

"Should've bet on the simple win, then," Chen-chi replied unsympathetically. She had learned long ago that showing sympathy to someone who lost a bet was a good way to get whined at, especially if the one losing money was a friend. Neutrality on her bets had kept Chen-chi from any number of unpleasant consequences. Bribing and befriending the school's lacrosse teams had done more, naturally, but neutrality sold better. "God knows the Sabers are going down."

"You sure? They just scored twice."

Chen-chi shrugged, "Five minutes to go, and I need them to lose. So they're going to lose."

"They've still got a chance," Ding protested, having bet on the Sabers when they all sat down.

Chen-chi shook her head, "Nope. I'm afraid it's not going your way today, Ding. More people bet on the Sabers to win, and bet big. I need the revenue a Puma victory would give me, so I'm betting on the Pumas. You know me, every time I bet close, I win."

Ding considered that for a few seconds, then narrowed his eyes at her. "I don't suppose I could change my bet?"

"Nope, all bets are final," Chen-chi grinned at him, "But I'll let you place a second one, if you want?"

He actually considered that for a few seconds, before grimacing and shaking his head. "Nah, you've robbed me enough this month, especially if the Sabers lose."

"I'm hurt," Chen-chi pouted, "you still have money. I can't possibly have robbed you enough if you still have money!"

She was not entirely comfortable with the old joke – she was no thief and never would be. But it was an old joke, and none of the laughter was mean. Bets or not, she was sitting with friends, so it was all in good fun.

That sense of fun vanished in the last few seconds of the game, though, as the Sabers' star player got the ball back and managed to break from the herd. Charging down the pitch, he was all alone, and better at scoring than the Pumas' goalie was at saving. Chen-chi was not one to scream and shout like everyone around her, but she was definitely tense. She needed a Puma victory. A Saber win would not clean her out, but given how heavily she had bet on the Pumas, it would delay her plans. She would not be bankrupt, she was not that crazy, but she would be delayed a month or even more.

Watching the ball soar out, she could feel that odd pressure in her skin when things came to a head, when her famous luck kicked in for real. "He'll miss," she insisted, as much to herself as her friends, "he'll miss, he has to miss."

Unlike what usually happened, though, as the Saber closed on the goal, the world went strange around her, like her head was suddenly muffled in cotton. Her equilibrium vanished and she almost fell off the bench. Time slowed to a crawl, and she watched the hated white and black sphere leave the Saber's foot, saw it flying through the air towards one end of the goal as the Puma goalie went the other way, and she _felt _her luck abandon her.

Then time returned to normal, her skin was suddenly crawling with almost-agonizing pins-and-needles, and the ball arced upwards as it flew, just high enough to strike the top bar of the goal. It popped straight up, hung in the air for a few seconds, then plummeted right into the goalie's hands as the ref's whistle shrilled.

"Oh, thank God," Chen-chi gasped, sagging in place. The score was Sabers 2, Pumas 3.

00000

"You shouldn't have done that, Lotte," Aria chided.

"Come on, nee-chan, she didn't even notice," Lotte replied. "Look at her, she doesn't even realize she was the one who redirected the ball."

The two of them were sitting in the same stands as Mao Chen-chi, several levels higher. They had followed the girl from her school, then used the last period of the game as cover to observe the girl Hayate was considering inviting to the Academy. Lotte, naturally, had spent most of that time cheering on the Pumas. Aria had actually pursued their mission, and was pleasantly impressed. Chen-chi was young for her grade, but managing well enough, in both schoolwork and socialization. If she could handle teenagers when money was involved, she should be able to handle the myriad people at Hayate's school.

"You probably frightened her," Aria argued, "that suppression spell was hardly subtle."

"Oh, she won't know what happened," Lotte argued, "and besides, it kept our minder from doing something stupid when he noticed what she was doing."

Aria flicked an ear in agreement, glancing over to the stairs where a man in painfully obvious suit and tie stood watching them watch Chen-chi. "I agree they made identifying Chen-chi easier, but did Mistress have to agree to let a Circle mage escort us everywhere?"

"I think it was more a matter of she demanded one," Lotte countered. "With him here, his fellows will be more relaxed, less likely to try something stupid. Or, he's cover, a sacrificial lamb to lull us into a false sense of security. Either way, you think she'll do?" 

"I think so," Aria replied. "Mao-san is patently intelligent and motivated enough, the only questions were her true strength and her family's agreement. She has the strength, so now we talk to them."

"No defined ability? Ah, that's boring."

Aria smiled slightly at Lotte's tone. "Be content, Lotte-chan. She appears to share some of Laura's irreverence. Can you imagine two of them running around if Miss Mao was just as gifted? The valley isn't large enough for that much madness. Come along, we will follow her a little longer. I'm curious to see where else she will go. The Circles were a little too well informed regarding her, she may have unknowing contact with them."

00000

Chen-chi paid off the bets of everyone who was there, making them stand around and wait while she noted everything down in her ledger, but that was normal. She preferred pen and ink for that because it was much harder to modify without anyone noticing. Once that was done, though, they all had things to do, and she had an errand to run with her ill-gotten gains, so she left them at the small stadium's gate, and took off for the train into the city, heading for a seedier section.

The area used to make her nervous when she first starting frequenting it. There were constant stories of people being mugged or disappearing around Kel's, and it was far from the prettiest part of Taipei. But Chen-chi knew the area, knew how to avoid trouble, and made very certain of two things. The first was, she never openly carried money with her, so most people assumed she was just another poor schoolgirl, more trouble than she was worth. The second was who she always came to see. The regulars knew who she was visiting, and since he took care of them, they kept anyone from bothering his customers.

She had originally gone to Kel on her own, after some very cautious research. She knew what she wanted to do, the network she wanted to set up, but needed money to do it. Her parents could have covered it easily, but her mother seriously frowned on her betting, and her father wasn't about to cross her mother. There was also the fact that it was somewhat appropriate, given what she wanted the money for, that she got it through 'unofficial' channels. The secrecy had lasted until she got home, but by then her own intransigence had convinced her mother to let her try out her idea. Kel had taken some convincing, but Chen-chi had given a good show, and when she went back with her father, Kel had agreed to loan her what she needed. The irascible old man had proven to be a gold-mine of knowledge and skills over the following year.

She found the small carpentry shop, tucked in between a fish market and a electronics shop. No sign or name, just a narrow window filled with wooden constructs, half art works and half functional. The bell over the door chimed as she entered, calling out, "Hey, Kel, your favorite jail-bait is here!"

From the back of the store, the proprietor shouted, "Silence, child! How dare you be so familiar with me! Youth today, they have no respect for their elders!"

Chen-chi giggled at that, moving around the towering central display, then bounced to a halt as she saw a man sitting at the stool in front of the counter, and Kel standing behind it. "Ah, my apologies, Mister Ng," Chen-chi said, bowing slightly, "I didn't notice the sign. I'll wait outside."

"Tche, you didn't notice it because it isn't on. Pay attention, girl! You," he gestured at his guest, "you get out of my shop. Go get rejected by another street-walker."

Despite the insult, the man chuckled and nodded, "I'll drop by again in a little while, Pop." Then he passed Chen-chi with a nod and a smile, and vanished out the door. Something about him felt off, though, making her skin tingle like her luck was acting up.

"Some son of mine," Kel muttered, "barely visits, never calls, doesn't even ask before he takes up with some mainland woman. Bah! Kids today. You! What are you going to waste my time with at this hour? Can't you see I have a business to run?"

Chen-chi ignored his attitude, he was always like that when business was not going on. She knew he didn't mean any of it, it was just him being him. So she trotted up to the counter, swinging her pack around. Once she was comfortable on the stool, she fished her purse out of her backpack, then the money-belt from under her shirt. "I have two things for you, my good sir. First," she counted out the majority of the her recent winnings, plus a little extra, then added an envelope from her purse, "the last two payments on my loan from last year."

Kel looked at her suspiciously, then took the money and envelope. The envelope held more money, and he counted it all out very carefully, dividing the cash into piles by denomination. When he had it counted, he grunted once, "Well, I'll be. A month early even." He swept the money into one pile, then started to bend down behind the counter.

"Ahem, no," Chen-chi said. He paused, halfway over, to glare at her. Chen-chi pointed at the hand holding the bills, "First thing you taught me, Kel – trust no one, especially not if you owe them money."

He glared a moment longer, then sniffed and actually cracked a small smile. "You're learning, little Brilliant. Good." He tapped the money and left it on the counter, then resumed retrieving his ledger from the safe on which the counter was built.

He had several down there, Chen-chi knew, for his several lines of business. Keles Ng was nothing if not diversified in his dealings, some of which she was certain were even less legal than loaning money to an under-age girl. She was painfully curious about some of that business, of course, but even at her age knew better than to ask. "Could you get the account ledger as well, while you're down there? For the second item."

He made no reply, but came back up with two ledgers, setting one aside as he opened the first. It took him only a few seconds to complete the entry, double-check her loan-sheet, then tear off the bottom, stamp it and the loan-sheet 'paid in full', and hand her the receipt. "There you go, girl, all done. Not bad, not bad. Your little schemes paid off."

Chen-chi shrugged, "It's just numbers, and a little luck. And my luck is always good. Besides, Dad was covering it, if anything went wrong. Nice and safe."

"Tche, you rely on Lady Luck too much, girl. Luck's a fickle little witch. Build your life on her, and she'll abandon you when you need her most."

Chen-chi gave him a shocked look, "But Kel, didn't you know? I _am _Lady Luck! Just ask everyone at my school." He just gave her a disapproving look, so she sighed and rolled her eyes, "Okay, fine, I'm not Lady Luck herself, but she likes me. And you know what they say, the best luck is the luck you make for yourself. I know when and how my luck kicks in, Kel, and I know when it doesn't. Now, though, is _your _lucky day. I've got another four hundred US to put in my account." Pulling a second envelope out of her money belt, she put that on the counter.

Kel closed the loan ledger, then opened his accounts ledger and found her account. It was small, compared to what she planned for even next year, but active. No reputable bank or investment firm would take an account for someone her age, not as anything other than a parentally-administered savings account. Not even her father could bend that rule, not for a few more years. Kel, on the other hand, cared only about cold hard cash, not age. So she had set up an investment account of sorts with him, and for a percentage that was only slightly extortionate, he ran took care of the formalities for her. She was cautious about it, and discussed any moves she made with her father first, but her income from her betting circuit was growing the investments steadily.

"Same distribution?"

"Actually, not quite. For half of it, yeah. But the rest, there's this company in the US called Neuro-Cyber, traded in New York and Hong Kong. After the crazy woman's announcement back in March, they came out as a Circle company, and they've already announced a magic-based breakthrough in man-machine interface. I don't get all of it, something about letting a computer read personal energies to determine command inputs, supposed to be faster and more efficient than a keyboard. Dad and I looked into it some, and it looks legit. So, second half goes into that. Call it an experiment."

Kel had been scribbling in the account ledger, but the instant she mentioned Neuro-Cyber he froze. He did not look up until she stopped speaking, but he made no further entries. Finally, he said, "Those are dangerous people, little Brilliant. You do not want to get involved with them, especially not if they are behind these new bombings."

Chen-chi shook her head, "Wrong group, Kel. These guys are part of the 'good' ones, the sane ones. And if they're not," she shrugged, "We'll have plenty of time to reinvest somewhere else. I think it's worth a shot, and Dad agrees. Actually, he's more eager than I am, but he understands some of the business implications of this interface of theirs better than I do."

Kel looked like he was going to protest more, then simply growled in dissatisfaction. He counted out the second installment, finished noting down the entries, and handed her a pair of receipts. The first was for the deposit, but the second was for her account's total balance. Looking it over, Chen-chi checked at the numbers, "Ah, Kel? You need glasses, old man, there's too much here."

"Glasses? Me? Bah, ignorant girl! My eyesight is better now than yours has ever been! It's accurate. You earned commission off one of my accounts. Your father's advice paid off, and since he has no account, you have it. Now get out of my shop! You've wasted my time for hours now! Off with you, before I call the cops for loitering and fingering my wares!"

Laughing at his theatrics, Chen-chi leaned over the counter just far enough to kiss his cheek, then bounced out the door. She liked him and trusted him as much because of his ranting as anything else – he ranted at everyone, customers, family, and stranger alike. The louder and longer he ranted, and the more personal it was, the more he liked you. She noticed his son loitering at a corner a block down, but the man paid her no attention, so she trotted on for the train station.

It took her another half hour to get home, and the sun was setting when she got there. She and her family lived in a much nicer suburb of Taipei, in a house standing on almost an acre. Plenty of space, especially for an only child. But it was as much about appearance for her father's work as space they actually needed, and there were definite advantages – such as sneaking in and pretending to have been home for a while already.

Usually her mother was home a little after Chen-chi's school let out, and her father somewhat later. Today, however, both of them appeared to be home, her father's car in the garage, her mother's bicycle chained up on the porch. Someone was also visiting, if the dark sedan at the curb was any indication. She did not recognize the vehicle, so it was not a friend of the family, not a close one at least. That meant her parents and the guest would be in the living room, which was right next to the front door, and looked right at the base of the stairs.

"Well, time to see if the drain-pipe will still hold my weight," she decided, slipping around back. She was almost there when she remembered the problem with her plan – her window was closed, and locked. Mid-May or not, the mornings were still chilly, and the last time she had used this route, the summer before, she had left the window open a crack.

"Dammit," she muttered, tapping a foot and glaring at the drain-pipe as she tried to think of a way around this. She did not have a curfew, per se, but her parents expected her home in a reasonable time after school. Her father knew she was going to Kel's shop, so she would have a little extra cushion, but the game had eaten into that, even if it had started before she got out of class, and she was not supposed to go to games anymore. She could try to sneak in the back door, time the run for the stairs, but if she got caught sneaking in, there went any chance of mitigating arguments. Walking in the front door guaranteed she would get in trouble, but she could protest an 'innocent mistake' and probably not be in too much trouble.

"Front door it is," she decided, remembering the last time she had pissed off her mother. She shuddered at the memory. It was difficult to do, but once her mother's temper was set off, it burned very hot for a very long time. Steeling herself one last time, she pulled the door open, stepped inside, and called out, "Mom, Dad, I'm home."

"Chen-chi," her mother's voice came from the back of the house, but her father's home-office, rather than the living room, "come here, dear, we have some guests."

Her father's office was not really set up for guests, just his desk and computer, surrounded by bookshelves and filing cabinets, so it was an odd place for guests. The family finances and records were all there, as well as his side-projects and some of his more time-intensive work. There was a single extra chair, an over-stuffed wing-back he liked to read in. As long as she could remember, it had been her favorite room in the house, and she could remember as a small child sitting in his lap looking over all the pretty charts and the funny numbers as wove amazing stories of challenge and adventure.

When Chen-chi entered, she found her father sitting at his desk, Chen-chi's records spread out in front of him, and her mother leaning on the windowsill beside him. A man she did not know was standing opposite the wing-back. Despite his oddity, the two women opposite him immediately caught her attention, one sitting in the wing-back, the other leaning on one elbow of the chair back. The seated one studied her calmly and politely, but the standing one was down-right predatory, if amused. As she nodded polite greetings, Chen-chi could feel her skin prickling again, her luck acting up. This was definitely the most dangerous day she could ever remember.

Still, guests or not, her family had their own rituals. Chen-chi bypassed the women for her mother, kissing her on the cheek, then her father, "Hello Mom, Dad, sorry I'm late."

Her mother waved that aside, "Chen-chi, these ladies have come from Japan with an offer regarding school for next year."

"A remarkably generous one," her father added. "Transport, room and boarding, books, all we would have to cover is tuition. Steep, but doable, especially for the quality of education."

"Dear," Chen-chi's mother interrupted, then turned back to her daughter, "The lady standing is Lieze Lotte, and the other is Lieze Aria. They came from the Yagami Academy."

Chen-chi recognized the school name, if not the women's names, and asked, "The crazies in the news a couple months ago? The ones who think magic is real?"

Aria smiled, but Lotte actually burst out laughing, "Oh, it's real, chibi-ko."

"As we can demonstrate," Aria added, "here." She seemed to ripple, and the hairs-on-end feeling of Chen-chi's luck doubled for a moment, before fading back. The changes to Aria were subtle, nothing in clothing or position. But wrapped around her waist, tip twitching slowly in her lap, was a furred cat's tail, and standing out from the side of her head were two very obvious cat-ears. The cast of her features changed slightly, and her hands, but nothing more extreme than the ears. At first, Chen-chi thought she might just have some sort of really fancy cos-play get up. Then Lotte flicked one of Aria's ears, and the entire assembly twitched and flicked, just like a cat's, and the tail sped up momentarily.

"Show off," Lotte commented, "Mistress Hayate told us not to do that."

"She said to remain discrete," Aria countered, "but minor private demonstrations for veracity are allowed. These, Mister and Missus Mao, Chen-chi," she gestured at ears and tail, "are the outward signs my creator and first master gave me, indicative of my nature as a familiar. Familiars, in our lexicon, are artificially created life-forms dependent on their creator's magic to sustain them. We are created for a variety of reasons, mostly as assistants and body-guards. In our case, our current Mistress has us doing what we do best – teach. And yes, Chen-chi, we are the 'crazies' who were in the news in March. There's no offense, Lotte often delights in madness."

"So do you," Lotte shot back, "but we're not really crazy. The offer's real, and so is the education. Would you like to hear our pitch now, Chen-chi, or take a bit to get settled in? I'm sure you've got some ill-gotten gains to hide after that game."

Chen-chi flinched at that, and started trying to edge away from her mother, "Um, what game? I've got no idea what you're talking about. I just went to see Kel, lost track of time while talking with him."

She did not manage to edge far enough away, as her mother's hand snaked out to grab her ear. "Chen-chi, you're lying. You never look at your feet like that unless you're lying. You went to a game again, didn't you? Making bets and such."

"Mom! Ow!"

"Don't you 'ow' me, young lady! We specifically told you no more games after school! Not football, not lacross, not baseball, not track and field, no games! No more betting racket."

"Actually dear," Her father interrupted, disentangling them, "we only told her no more games without us along. But now is not the time. We can ground her later. For now, Miss Aria, Miss Lotte, I believe you have a presentation?"

Glad of any excuse to evade her mother's temper, Chen-chi paid close attention as the two cat-eared women began speaking. Aria did most of the talking, with the occasional comment from Lotte. Lotte spent most of the time providing whatever demonstration was needed. Most of that was surprisingly practical, floating screens that showed video clips, three-dimensional charts comparing the Academy's overall student performance versus selected other schools all over the world, even a visual tour of the campus.

The whole offer seemed rather unnecessary, at first. While the whole idea of doing magic appealed to her imagination, and the idea of going to an elite school was naturally appealing, it was too far away and too specialized to really get her interest. She had her network here, her rackets and contacts. That was why she had gotten a loan from Kel in the first place, to get everything set up, what her father called 'capital financing'. If she went traipsing off to Japan next August, all that effort would be minimized, if not outright lost.

Then Lotte demonstrated in passing something that Chen-chi would have given her left arm for. During the campus tour, a cube a meter on a side that showed a semi-aerial view of the campus, a circle of pillars behind one building appeared to be occupied by a centimeter-tall figure. Lotte zoomed in on Chen-chi's question, showing a purple-haired woman waving a sword about her head. "Oh," Lotte-said, "Mistress Hayate and Signum must have finished in Alabama sooner than we thought. The woman here is one of the teachers, she's currently doing a little personal physical training. I don't recommend asking to join her, though, she's liable to say yes, and then you'll spend the rest of your life running from Laura. Would you like to talk to her, though?"

"Whoa, wait a second," Chen-chi said, "This is _live_? You're generating this image direct all the way from Kyoto of what's going on there _now_?"

Aria looked confused, "Well, yes, this is live. We could have brought a video, I suppose, but this way we can show you points of particular interest, more easily answer some questions, and carry less baggage. Why?"

"And... you can communicate back there, just as fast?"

"Yes, though we would need a different spell to achieve both visual and auditory connection."

Chen-chi turned to her father, seeing the same look in his eyes, and grinned, "They've got my vote."

"There are still some details to check," he countered. "There is more to this school than a telecommunications revolution."

"Um, excuse me," Lotte said, "but... what?"

Chen-chi's father explained, "You can, apparently with a wave of your hand, generate an instant video-conference anywhere in the world. No clunky cameras, no heavy video screens, no dedicated land lines or expensive satellite links. If you ever find a way to package this, you'll be wealthier than Bill Gates over night. The possibilities! My company invested in a video-conferencing trial at a network of American hospitals. It now allows a world-renowned expert surgeon in New York to operate on a patient in San Francisco via robotic manipulator arms, while talking in real-time to the nurses in the OR, and being observed by students at a medical school in Chicago. And there are hundreds of such combinations possible on the existing network. It cost millions to set up, but it works, very well. Even as a test-system, it has saved the hospitals uncounted millions, and allowed patients access to care far beyond the norm, students access to experiences they could never get elsewhere, and it has already repaid our investment. Yet with this presentation for your school, you may very well have just rendered the entire project obsolete. The potentials are incredible!" 

Aria and Lotte shared a look, worry and confusion, fading into simple uncertainty. "I think I see where you are going, Mister Mao, but... this is not all that complicated. This is routine."

"That's the point," Chen-chi said, "it's routine for you, easy, cheap. Any other way we know how to do stuff like this, it's big and clunky, expensive, and usually fixed in place. If you can do something like this so casually..." she could not help giggling, "Imagine what else we could figure out? If this is routine for you, the opportunities are just too good! This'll be like... being there when Gates first talked to IBM, or when Smith wrote his book... how could I say no?"

Aria actually looked more uncomfortable, "You are interested... because you think you can make money?"

"Someone's going to," Chen-chi's father said, "why not Chen-chi and I? It's not like we're going to go all robber-baron, though. Despite her predilection for gambling, Chen-chi's got surprisingly good ethics for her age."

"I still don't see why everyone objects to me making book," Chen-chi complained, "it's just numbers, probabilities. As for this, it's like Dad always says – if you see a good opportunity, grab hold with both hands and don't let go. I'd have to be an idiot to turn down an opportunity this huge. Even if the whole live-location video-conferencing thing won't work, if you can do that so easily, there's got to be other things. Numbers again."

Lotte chuckled, "You'll have to forgive my sister, she's always been a little more idealistic than is good for her. Likes to think everyone's in it for the purest reasons."

Chen-chi tried to look offended, "My reasons are perfectly pure!"

"Purely mercenary," her mother countered.

"No more than anyone else, Mom. There's nothing wrong with looking for a profit. If we didn't, we'd all still be rice-farmers in leaky huts."

"Actually, she has a point," Lotte mused. "People tend to see the big spells, the large-scale busters and obvious shields, world-spanning illusions, and the like. But those are pretty scary to most people, justifiably so. There's a reason the more reactionary types call S-rank mages 'city-slayers'. But common uses, like video-conferencing or easy travel via teleport, make those commonplace, and people will become more comfortable with the rest of magic. Like science, when it was the province of a few highly trained savants, it was strange and scary, but once it started making life easier, it became safe and popular. Mistress Hayate will make sure she keeps her ethics up to par, too."

The rest of the presentation took another hour or so, details on security and financial matters. The former held little interest for Chen-chi, but the latter were very interesting, numbers again. The rates seemed a little steep to her, especially for 'just tuition'. The more Chen-chi heard, though, the more she liked the idea of going. It would mean leaving home, changing schools yet again, and probably abandoning her hard-built network and friends, but the sheer opportunity was too good to pass up.

The only thing that bothered her was the man, who was never introduced. He stood in the corner, face impassive, utterly silent. He never said a word, never did anything by word or gesture other than, as everyone was leaving, holding the door open for Aria and Lotte. The best Chen-chi could get anyone to tell her was her mother saying he was the guide for the twins, which begged the question of why he was even in the house, instead of out in the car. But she could get nothing more, so she let it go.

She was feeling pretty good about the whole idea, right up until her mother closed the door, turned to her with a frown, and said, "So. About this game you went to this afternoon."

00000

Author's Note: Kel refers to Chen-chi as 'brilliant', which is part of her name. Chen-chi translates into English as 'Brilliant Dawn'. It's also a reference to how smart she is (compared to most people, not compared to Hayate's students), though most of her smarts are, as she puts it, 'just numbers'.

Regarding how Chen-chi comes across here – she turned out to be a touch more mercenary than I originally intended. It's one of those things where, while looking at the school from her perspective, it occurred to me that a lot of the tricks and technology the Bureau takes for granted are painfully rare on Earth. Chen-chi is a capitalist at heart, so being able to blow something up is neat, but not useful. In contrast, being able to communicate at will with anyone anywhere in full real-time video is insanely valuable, and hence cool. Even the barrier jackets, if she could figure out how to generate them artificially for a non-mage, would be valuable – think of firefighters, police, miners, soldiers, anyone driving a car. That being said, don't go thinking she's Bill Gates or Steve Jobs – she's an amateur capitalist, not a monopolist. It isn't clearly stated above, but her father works for an investment company (which is where Chen-chi gets her capitalist bent from), and her mother owns the local convenience store. And yes, she got her first investment from the criminal underworld – who else might loan a couple grand to a ten-year-old? She also came across as rather more advanced than I originally intended, but it is fairly focused – she knows how to spot opportunity and manage money. Advanced skills, but focused. I'll have to figure out how to show it in Endless Waltz, but she's pure embarrassment in phys-ed.

Finally, it's been so very long since I posted one of these, that I'm uncertain on the matter of review replies. I believe I replied to all but one via the direct replies. If not, my apologies. Let me know by PM, and I'll finagle a direct reply.

00000

Ryand Smith: I don't remember much in the way of detail in the first two series regarding where the Bureau's authority stems from, if it was some sort of interstellar UN, a true interstellar government, or by fiat and force of arms. Given that, I do tend to see it as a cross between the British Empire and the UN, as you remarked. Not so much 'no local rights', as the Bureau broadly interprets its charter whenever its admirals feel it necessary. As for Takashi, he is extremely powerful – raw destructive power is easy for him. It's selective destruction that is more difficult, and knowing when destruction is not necessary. Look at how he hasn't noticed Kriegsen, despite Kriegsen being (essentially) right under his nose. Also keep in mind that, however justified or effective, he slaughtered the Grand Circle with relatively little in the way of forethought or consideration, mere days after their attack on Hayate. In D&D terms, he would probably be epic level, rather than divine level – his power is partly based on himself, but also based on his equipment (the Hellblade) and his experience. The Greek God analogy is fairly apt, though he is less flighty than Greek mythology paints the Olympians.


	15. 15 Scar the Soul

**Scar the Soul**

An Endless Waltz Side Story

By Daishi Prime

Author's Note: Fair warning, this story is rather harsher than the Nanoha-verse is supposed to be. It's brutal and a little gratuitous, but it is Didier's history, and has been since I first conceived of his character. That said, I _really _don't like this story. Not for the writing, but for the subject. I've argued with myself over posting this, or even writing it, but the character in question deserves it, so here it is.

Also, a note on psychology – I've taken a basic college course on psych, but I'm no psychiatrist/psychiatrist/whatever-your-favored-term is. None of what I use below is more than a broad overview, and my apologies if any of you are experts and spot a mistake.

A note on time – this story begins approximately six years before Endless Waltz begins, with later scenes set later in time, with the last scene set in October of Endless Waltz.

00000

Didier sort of understood why Father had to go away. Bad men had done bad things, and Didier's father had gotten rid of the bad men. Now Father was going to get rid of more bad men someplace else, before those bad men tried to come here. Didier was not entirely clear on what made them bad men, but he was still proud of Father. Father was a great man, a good man, important and known by everyone. Didier just wished Father could stay.

"I know you don't like this, son," Father told him the day he left, "but you have to be strong. Your mother is going to need your help, need you to do what she tells you. When I come back, I want you to show me you've been good. Can you do that for me, Didier?"

Didier almost did not answer, but eventually managed to nod, "I can do it, Father." He even managed not to cry when Father climbed into the back of the taxi and disappeared into the great unknown. It was not until the taxi vanished between the fields that he ran to Mother and burst into tears, terrified that Father would never come back.

It took him the better part of April to stop moping. Mother never did let him do that for long, but every time he had a second to himself that second was spent staring at the road past town. Still, there was work to be done. The family farm was small, by local standards, sufficient for them to feed themselves, but they had always relied on Father's work running the town, more than the farm. Now, with Father living in the more expensive city, the farm was more necessary, though the neighbors were happy to help.

Even when he did finally stop being depressed by Father's departure, he continued to watch the road. Father would come back eventually, to stay or to take them off to the city. Didier was not sure if he wanted to live in the city, Mother had terrible things to say about it. Their neighbors equally detested the city, and seemed equally honored and disgruntled that Mayor Akalé was gone to Parliament. Father's letters were welcome, Mother reading them to Didier and his sister whenever they arrived, but not the same. Thus a routine was established. Didier was given more responsibilities, mostly running simple errands, and his few free moments were spent watching the road and waiting.

Everything went wrong towards the end of June. Spring warmth was shifting imperceptibly into summer heat, and Mother gave him their reply to Father's last letter. "Be very careful with this, Didier," she told him, handing him an envelope and the money for postage, "make sure you get the right change – I think you can do the math, but make sure to ask Mister Deri for help – then come right home. Okay?" 

"Yes, Mother," Didier was practically bouncing with excitement. It was just into town, to the general store where Mister Deri ran the post as well. It was only out of sight of the house because of intervening buildings and some trees planted for shade, almost close enough to shout. But Mother was trusting him on his own, with money even, and in his six-year-old mind, that made it a grand adventure.

Didier ran off at a break-neck pace, at first, but almost immediately slowed – running while using both hands to hold the letter to his chest was difficult. So instead he slowed to a trot, not walking, but not moving so fast as to worry about his balance. He made it to the store in a couple minutes, then had to wait in line as two of Mother's friends made their own purchases, talking with Mister Deri and each other.

Didier was dutifully counting the change on the counter when the sound of vehicle engines distracted him. He looked up to see Mister Deri craning to look out the window down the street. Then came some popping sounds. Mister Deri practically fell back into the store he moved so fast, confusing Didier greatly. Mister Deri was old, he never did anything fast, and he never looked frightened.

"Come Didier," Mister Deri ordered, waving him around the counter, "come back here for a minute. I need you to do something for me."

The engines and popping sounds were getting closer, and Didier wanted to go see if it was Father coming back. But he had been taught to obey his elders, so Didier stepped around behind the counter. Mister Deri took him by the shoulder, and began pushing him towards the back of the store. "Listen, Didier, you need to run home, fast as you can. Don't go by the road, go straight home through the woods. Don't let anyone see you. Tell your mother 'now is the time to hide.' Okay? Remember, 'now is the time to hide'. Now, go, run."

Mister Deri pushed Didier out the shop's back door, and Didier stumbled. By the time he had his footing again, the door had slammed shut behind him. The popping sounds were much closer now, they had to be coming from inside the village, but they were no longer interesting. Outside, without walls to distort and muffle sound, Didier could hear screaming, shouting, and confusion became fear.

_Mother,_ he reminded himself, _Mother and Lucia. Mother will know what is going on._

He took off running, hands free now he could go flat out, even through the trash and undergrowth of the shade-woods. He had to circle a little, there were some treacherous spots in there where it was easy to trip, lots of sharp things to fall on, but he was at the edge of the clearing around the house in a minute.

There was a jeep in front of the porch, five men in green with guns walking about the place. Even as Didier watched, Mother ran from the back of the house, carrying his sister. He knew she was trying to reach the fields and get lost among the crops as she had told him to do in case of trouble. But two of the men were at the side of the house, and saw her. They shouted something, but as Mother kept running, one lifted his rifle, and opened fire. Didier was too terrified, too confused, to force himself to move as Mother jerked and twisted, bright red blossoming on her blouse, and then she fell, Lucia falling limply from her arms covered in more red.

Then a hand grabbed him and someone growled, "Gotcha!"

Didier struggled, trying to get away, to escape, to get to Mother, do anything. He managed to twist around as the man tried to grapple him. Didier tried to hit him, but the man grabbed one arm, and managed to get his arm around Didier's shoulder. Didier's free hand impacted something hard and metal that swung loose. He grabbed it, trying to swing it to hit the man, but his finger caught on something, and he realized it was a gun. Didier had never touched one, Father would never have allowed it, but he had a general idea what to do with it. He grabbed the trigger and squeezed as hard as he could. The thunderous report was deafening, and the hammering of the gun almost made him drop it. He held on in desperation for a few seconds, and heard the man grunt in pain before he lost his grip.

When he got his feet back, the man was lying on the ground, blood flowing from his chest and belly. The man was still staring at him, gasping something, weakly scrabbling at the ground. Then someone shouted, more gunfire sounded, and Didier fled. He barreled through the woods, sobbing in terror, ignoring everything but an overwhelming need to escape, to get away, to make it all go away.

00000

Didier had no idea how long he ran, or even where he ran too. Eventually, he fell down and was unable to get up, too tired, crying too hard, to go farther. He simply curled up in place and cried himself to sleep.

In the morning, hunger and thirst drove him to his feet once more. This time he did not run, simply walked. He tried not to think, to just be there. If he ignored it, maybe it would not hurt so much. Unfortunately, his attempts to get something to eat and drink reminded him time and again of Mother's lessons in what was edible, what Lucia though was pretty, what Father knew to be useful for simple medicines. Everywhere he turned, even here in unfamiliar wilderness, he could not escape the reminders. Father was gone, Mother and sister were dead. But he had no energy left to cry, only a constant pain he desperately wanted to escape.

A voice intruded in his sorrow at some point, singing softly. He could not make out the words, but he followed it, drawn to it. The voice was female, and whatever she was singing was soft, longing, welcoming. It reminded him painfully of Mother singing as she cleaned laundry or worked the house garden, of Lucia's beginning attempts to sing along. It reminded him of home, and for a few moments he had a wonderful thought that it was all a horrible nightmare, that Mother was singing him awake.

But the faint figure standing by the stream, an odd-looking woman in a green dress, was not Mother. Her skin was too pale, her hair too long, and Mother never wore green. She said the color reminded her of the bad old days before Father 'came to his senses'. Also, this woman was transparent, sort of, and she was standing atop the water, not in it. She continued to sing as he crept up to the stream, face raised to the sky. He kept a wary eye on her as he got a drink, wondering what she was.

When her song finished, she turned to face him, and smiled. She said something, but he did not understand what and just stared at her. She frowned slightly, then spoke several more phrases, pausing after each, until she finally asked something he understood.

"I speak it," he said in the French Father and Mother taught him.

"What is your name, little one?"

"Didier," he said, and her eyes widened in shock.

"Oh, you poor thing. I see you, now. I am…" she frowned, "I am not sure who I am, but I think you can call me Light." Didier just nodded, and she sighed, gliding over to settle on the bank. "Come, Didier, sit. I'll sing you to sleep, and when you wake, you will be in a better place, I think. Your father misses you terribly, I will send you back to him."

"Are you a ghost?"

She blinked, "What?"

"Are you a ghost? I can see through you."

She looked down at herself, and frowned. "I suppose I might be," she said, "but I don't feel like I'm dead. I'm lost, I think, looking for where I was when I came here. I will say, I cannot actually touch you. I tried that, at first, but I just move again, whenever I touch a person. So, I'm no threat to you, little one, though Kessenra says I am a threat to everyone. Sit, little Didier, and let me sing you home to your father."

She started singing in a different language, a soft and gentle lullaby. Even over his suspicions, Didier found himself fading into slumber. He could feel the tears trickling down his face again, the song reminding him of Mother and Lucia again, but he had no energy to do more than lay down and sleep once more.

00000

Gillaume Akalé knew full well what he was going to find in his home town. It had been five days since the attack, three since word reached the capitol, most of that time spent traveling home. The leader of his party had not even waited for Gillaume to ask before sending him home to find his family. Even members of the many competing and opposition parties had expressed their sympathies and regrets. The civil war was over, and even before then the loss of family was respected.

Soon as it was, though, he had done all the mourning he could allow. He was no stranger to loss, and Ana would never forgive him for mourning her, and losing their son. So he came back for his wife's and daughter's funeral, and to search for Didier. Once in the village, though, he could not help delaying a little. He was not the only one to have lost someone in this tragedy, and he had learned his lessons well. He was in parliament to help his neighbors, and he had to help them with their grief now.

So the leader of the troops searching the area found him in the center of the village, talking, crying, with old friends and adversaries, each of them comforting one another. Many, to Guillaume's relief, were out with the searchers, their knowledge of local terrain aiding the search for the missing and the guilty. But most were there for the funerals.

Major Tulae was soft-looking, physically, a little rounder than a good soldier should have been, but Guillaume knew the man. He had been a rebel before the civil wars ended, a lieutenant. Guillaume had been a private in Tulae's squad, when the other man was a sergeant. Their parting had not been friendly, but there was no anger in Tulae's eyes, not directed at Guillaume.

"Private," Tulae said.

"Major," Guillaume answered, not returning the insult. "Can you give me a status report?"

Tulae looked at him for a moment, then nodded, "Follow me, MP Akalé. I need to show you something."

They walked behind the general store, down the path to the Akalé's home. "I'm sorry to bring you here," Tulae said, "but it has been the most convenient place to put the evidence we have gathered. Here, these are the key points."

Two shot-up jeeps were parked along the path, and there were several piles of gear along the side of the path – uniforms, AK-47s, pistols, grenades, and varied kits. No two precisely matched, but they were roughly similar enough to be recognizable. "Bandits," Tulae snarled. "Undisciplined cowards."

"We wore uniforms little different from these," Guillaume said, "and carried weapons no different."

Tulae sneered, "I know how to follow orders. The war is over, we are soldiers of all the people now. We protect them, we do not prey on them. These fools, they like the power, but have no discipline. I may think you're a fool, Guillaume, with your silly ideas, but you have discipline, you have honor. These bandits are nothing but animals. Though I must say that, wherever he has got to, I am very impressed with your boy."

Guillaume froze, feeling a second of hope before he fully comprehended Tulae's statement. Didier was still missing, but had done something... 'impressive'. "What do you mean?"

Tulae glanced at him, then began pointing at the piles of gear, "Most of these men were killed while leaving the village. Your neighbors apparently did not hear about the law against civilian ownership of firearms, though I have yet to find any trace of such weapons. Three were killed sooner. That man, and that man," he pointed at the second pile, "were killed by the old man who ran the store and his shotgun, before one of their friends got him. This one," he pointed at the last pile, "was shot twice with his own rifle. The only tracks in the area with blood in them were his, and a small set, made by, say, a six year old boy."

Guillaume felt his blood run cold. _Didier, my poor Didier, what have you suffered, and where have you run to? _ "What of their compatriots?"

Tulae shrugged, "Easy enough to track, my forces are following them now at a discreet distance. They should lead us to their main camp in a day or so. These bastards have been plaguing the area for months now, and I'm looking forward to killing them all. Only thing that would make it better was if they were remnants of the fascits we used to fight, instead of cowards that used to fight at our side."

"You know the policies," Guillaume countered. One thing the new government had made very certain of was, when suspected hold-outs of one side of the civil war were hunted down, the ones doing the hunting had belonged to the same faction, before the new constitution was finally fully accepted. "You will not face our old enemies, just as they will not face these bandits. I wish you success in your hunt, Major, while I pray your hunt comes to a peaceful end. If you will excuse me, however, I wish to see to finding my son."

Tulae grimaced at his wish for peace, but nodded. "I called in one of my own sons to head up that search. He's a good tracker, but a little short on sense to be in command. Just don't go preaching any of your nonsense to him. Boy's got a future in the army."

00000

Guillaume agreed to the meeting readily enough, though the timing was a little odd. He had to reserve a conference room – he was too junior in the party to warrant a private office, making do with a nicer cubicle than his tiny staff – but that was hardly a problem on a Sunday. When the security guard escorted Doctor Laefa into the conference room, Guilluame was standing and welcomed him politely, waving him to pick a chair.

"Obviously, I wanted to speak to you privately about Didier," the doctor said. "Specifically, I have been working with him long enough to realize we have hit a roadblock, a serious one."

Finding Didier had relieved so many worries for Guillaume, he could not remember being so weak in the knees since his daughter was born. But finding his son had brought problems of its own. Welcome ones, given the alternatives, but problems nonetheless. Didier was in a terrible state, refusing to speak more than two words at a time, flinching from any attempt at physical contact, and waking with screaming nightmares almost every night. Guillaume had found Doctor Laefa and the psychiatrist had been working with Didier for almost eight months now, helping him talk about what happened, helping him heal.

Guillaume had his own problems now, and less to distract him from them. He had loved Ana dearly, however much she had nagged at him, and Lucia had been his joy just as Didier was his pride. That, unfortunately, left him in an emotional quandary he was unable to find a way to resolve. Didier reminded him of his loss, but Didier was also the last bit of family he had left. So he found himself working long hours, trying not to show Didier how much he was hurting, but needing to be there for his boy. "What is wrong? And what can I do?"

"Didier has been very forthcoming about what happened to your wife and daughter, how he feels about that. The terrible grief is no longer so strong, and he is well and truly bouncing back from that, as one would expect from a child his age. He will always have trouble with it, but it will not be crippling. Were that his only problem, I would be weaning him from my care even now. He needs to spend less time being cared for and more time being a boy. Even these tales of the 'green lady' are harmless, a frightened and lonely mind making up someone to care for and protect him."

Laefa sighed and leaned forward, "but grief is not his only problem. Your son is, understandably, very angry. He knows his mother and sister were murdered for no reason, and that he was almost killed or kidnapped as well. Didier refuses to look at that anger, however, refuses to deal with it. The few times I have managed to bring it out, I have had to be very clever, very quick, and he still suppresses the rage again almost immediately. That is not healthy, especially not in a boy his age. He needs to express that anger, to understand and deal with it, but he will not. I have two possible causes, which may both be right.

"The first is, of course, fear. He knows he killed a man, and he did so at very close quarters and probably watched the man die. He is very much afraid that his anger will result in a repetition of that killing. You know how causing another person's death at close range can affect someone, and that effect is worse for a child, who's psyche is more malleable and less buttressed by experience. His fear is natural, but he is giving in to that fear completely, again not dealing with it or the underlying anger.

"The second reason is... more fluid. I do not know if you have spoken with him about what he did, but I can tell he does not know your thoughts on the matter. He simply refuses to speak about the matter. He may very well fear rejection by you because of what he did, while at the same time, he may fear your _approval_. For Didier's sake, I will be blunt: The fact that he has noticed you are avoiding him, that his presence causes you pain, is not helping him deal with his own issues.

"I know you are not my patient, Mister Akalé, but I cannot help the boy who _is_ my patient without your help. You need to talk to him. Not just the weather, or how his day went, but about everything – your wife, your daughter, what he did, what you have done, everything. Even if you find you cannot forgive or accept him, you need to let him know that. Until he does know that, I do not believe he can make any further progress. In time, his anger will fester, and he will begin to lose control of it more and more often, until, eventually, precisely what he fears – another killing – comes to pass."

00000

Didier was just getting into bed when Father knocked on his open door. "Son, would you mind if I... talked to you, for a bit?"

Ducking his head in a rough nod, Didier climbed into bed and set his pillow up as a backrest.

Father came in, carrying a book, and gingerly sat on the side of Didier's bed. He was silent for a time, staring at the book in his hands, and Didier began to fidget. "I wanted to tell you a story, and share with you one of my most prized treasures.

"When I was a foolish young man, I joined a militia. I thought I would defend what was right, fight the fascists and make our country a better place. I learned to shoot and to march, to hide in the wilderness and spot fascist infiltrators. I thought I was a man. I met your mother in those days, and began to love her, though she feared me.

"One day, my unit was moved, from the wilderness to the city. We became guards of our leaders, as a reward for our exemplary services. There were foreigners visiting our leaders, white men, who came to negotiate. They thought to dictate to us how our country should settle its differences. They thought to take our guns, to make us helpless before the fascists, or so I thought.

"I had occasion to speak to one of them, and he was surprising in his words. He abhorred violence. In our country, at that time, not having a weapon at all times made you a victim, yet he refused to carry even a pistol, not even a knife. But he spoke of the harm violence does, to the victim and to perpetrator. He spoke of the thrill and the fear, and so many things. I thought him foolish and weak. I had killed many men, by that time, women and children as well, when they ran to the fascists instead of their comrades. I have done terrible things.

"On his last trip, this man brought me a book. This book," he tapped the well-thumbed text in his lap, "and he quoted to me a great man, 'I object to violence because when it appears to do good, the good is only temporary, the evil it does is permanent.' I read this book, and I found not the foolish coward I expected, but one of the greatest men humanity has ever produced. A man who showed, not merely said but _showed_, that peace was the proper path, the greatest challenge, and God's own Truth. A man who faced the most powerful empire in the history of humanity, with nothing more than words and will, and he humbled them. This book was his clearest writing on the subject, The Story of My Experiments With Truth, by Mahatma Gandhi.

"This book saved my life, Didier. It showed me why what we were doing was wrong, why it never worked, why our method, our rebellion was doomed to failure. This book is why I left the men I served so long with, why your mother agreed to marry me at last, why I never allowed a gun in the house, why I became mayor, and ran for Parliament. Every good thing in my life has come about because of this book. I know you have suffered worse than I ever did, but I hope it can help you, as well. Here."

Didier took the large volume, needing both hands to keep it steady, and put it in his lap. Flipping it open, all he saw were a few squiggly lines that slowly began resolving into the characters Mother had begun teaching him after Father came to the city. "I... I don't..."

Father shifted, moving to wrap an arm around Didier's shoulder. "I know, Didier. I'll teach you how to read it. Mother taught you the letters, right? Here, the first page of the introduction. Just one letter."

"I."

"Very good, and the next? Sound it out, one letter at a time."

Didier needed several tries, to get the letters to merge together properly, but managed, "first."

The next word took longer, and his father had to tell him several times, "encountered."

Slowly, with a great deal of effort, Father and Didier began teaching and learning their way through the book. Didier did not really understand what was being said. He learned the words easily enough, though the larger and stranger ones still confused him, but knowing what they said and understanding it were two different things. Even months later when they were reading the actual book itself, and not just the introductions, he did not understand what the book was saying, beyond a vague idea. But he found it easy enough not to care. Every night, his father came and helped him read, teaching him words he did not know, helping with pronunciation, or just sitting next to him while they read aloud.

00000

Two months after arriving at Yagami's Academy, Didier closed the door after Shamal's latest lesson. Watching Cid-chan heal the small cuts had been impressive, especially after trying it himself. But Shamal's words after that, the conversation about his mother and sister, almost ruined the evening. Settling down at his desk, he turned towards the small shrine set up next to his bed. It was, technically speaking, religious – there was a cross hanging on the wall, and the Bible Father gave him the year before. But it was more than that, as well. Father's picture hung beside the cross, and a picture of Mother holding Lucia after she was born, Father leaning over Mother's shoulder to look at his daughter while Didier sat next to her, hung on the other side. But the center was his father's original copy of Experiments. It was more dog-eared and worn than it had been when Father passed it on to Didier, but still solid, given how much care both of them took with it.

Didier did not even read that copy any longer. He had bought a new one, a slightly different translation, rather than risk the original falling apart. But the book was too important to both him and Father for him to risk it, or to 'put it away'.

Rolling his chair over, he picked up the book and thumbed to a random page, running his fingers over the text. "I think I found my path, sir." He could feel the great man's presence in the words, and sometimes could not help talking to it as he sometimes did to the Green Lady. Both were figments of his imagination, but it helped him feel connected, feel like part of something. "Everyone here is so eager for battle, I feared I made the wrong choice in coming here. But I remember what you said, about 'better to be violent, than put on the non-violence to cover impotence'. And I think I finally found a way. I can't be Cid-chan, I can't save everyone, but... a medic. A rescuer. I can do that."

00000

Author's Note: the book by Gandhi is real, his own autobiography, and includes the basics of his philosophy. Much as I may disagree with the practicality of non-violence, I acknowledge and respect his accomplishments, and he's one of the few figures in the twentieth century that I unreservedly respect. The influence of Gandhi on Guillaume and Didier is as much the source of Didier's problem with Yussef's class as what happened to Didier's mother and sister. The first quote (I object to violence…) is one of Gandhi's, unmodified save for translation, the second (better to be violent…) is a partial and garbled quote. The actual quote is: 'It is better to be violent, if there is violence in our hearts, than to put on the cloak of non-violence to cover impotence'.

00000

CrimsonDX: I'm glad you like Chen-chi, she's one of the more developed of the first years. Didier's story here is also pre-Endless Waltz, mostly because the biggest defining event in his character was losing his mother and sister. For the others, I honestly don't know if I'll do a pre-Endless Waltz story, mostly because I don't have any other Side Story ideas at the moment.


	16. 16 The Seed of Leviathan

**Analysis of the Seed of Leviathan**

An Endless Waltz Technical Readout

By Daishi Prime

Author's Note: this is less a 'Side Story' than a formalization of my notes and thoughts. It's somewhat dry, but should answer most of the questions about the Seed of Leviathan. Keep in mind, I'm smart, but no biologist. Assume for simplicity's sake that the Conclave of Masters is about as far ahead of the Bureau, in bioengineering, as the Bureau (with their familiars, devices, and artificial humans) is ahead of modern day Earth. If you have questions, from capabilities to how the Seed would handle a given scenario, PM me or put them in a review, and I'll re-post this Side Story in an updated format in a couple of weeks. Just please don't ask for precise numbers beyond what are below – I'm a writer, not a statistician:).

00000

Overview

The Seed of Leviathan ('Seed') were created specifically to combat magical threats to the Conclave of Masters. A combination of military shock-trooper, police special-tactics trooper, combat bodyguard, and automated border patrol unit, the Seed were envisioned as one-on-one adjuncts to trained mages, though that purpose rapidly changed. Their key ability is resistance to almost all forms of magic, to the point they are essentially immune to attack and binding spells. Due to this, the Seed rely entirely on their physical capabilities for offense and defense, and are thus built very strong and very tough.

Due to concerns regarding the Seed's violent natures and purpose, Seed are never issued weapons. Therefore, in combat Seed seek to close to hand to hand with their foes. For all their size and toughness, they are cunning and intelligent, and will seek to use cover and misdirection to close the range without being attacked, or even spotted if possible. Once in close range, the Seed seek to leap on or knock down the target, render it non-functional, then move on to the next. Between size, intelligence, and immunity to magic, the Seed are dangerous, powerful foes, but fundamentally limited.

A common mistake made by observers is that the Seed are biological entities. While they rely on biological processes, and are commonly acknowledged as life-forms, they differ significantly from natural life-forms, and are closer in nature and concept to extremely advanced robots. Natural life-forms come about entirely through evolutionary processes, with the attendant errors and compromises necessitated by changing habitats, and an orientation toward species survival over the individual. The Seed of Leviathan _have_ evolved over the centuries since their initial creation, however that evolution is _entirely _artificial – they are constructed, by intelligent minds, towards specific ends, ends which do not necessarily include the survival of the Seed, individually or as a species. The materials, the thought processes, the structure and design, everything about the Seed is artificial, a fact which must be kept in mind when evaluating and projecting their capabilities and actions.

History

Created originally during the golden age of the Conclave of Masters, the Seed of Leviathan have undergone continuous refinement and improvement. As the Conclave's population grew, and colonies were established on new worlds and new dimensions, native threats were encountered in some worlds which utilized magic in varying ways and degrees. At the same time, the incidence of magic-assisted violent criminals grew drastically. Project Leviathan was initiated some fifty years after the official end of the Warlords Era, when the Conclave's power over humanity was proving stable and long-lasting enough for a controversial paramilitary project.

Project Leviathan's stated intent was to create a construct capable of providing close-quarter combat support to military and police mages against non-sentient threats and magic-using criminals. Even before it was formally begun, the idea of creating such a weapon was controversial, and the Project was heavily monitored and debated. It was canceled and re-started several times, but over the course of approximately one century, settled on the basic form recognizable to modern eyes as a 'Seed'. Originally, there were several different forms of Seed, however one form won out due to fundamental flexibility in the intended mage-support role – a large humanoid. The term 'Seed of Leviathan' came about as a working code-name for the prototypes, and the specific term carries connotations less of plant-life, than of derivative ideas.

The original Seed, while recognizable today as such, was significantly less capable than the modern version. The original Seed were about ten percent smaller, but most of the improvements have been in materials and programming – the modern Seed are fifty percent faster, thirty percent stronger, eighty percent quicker in reflex, almost two hundred percent tougher, all thanks to incremental but steady improvements in materials and tweaking. Additionally, modern Seed have better senses, and vastly improved programming, again thanks to incremental improvements over long stretches of time.

Over the centuries Project Leviathan has been improving the Seed, the focus has shifted. The original Seed made civilians uncomfortable to the point of hatred, and many Protectors refused to utilize them, even in situations where the Seed's capabilities would have been perfect, even at risk to their own lives. Colonists and Guard officers, however, found the Seed to be a welcome addition, and the Project soon began focusing their development in those two areas. Seed could be set to regular patrols very easily, would maintain those patrols almost indefinitely, and were implacable in pursuit of designated goals. Colonists would deploy small groups of Seed to hunt down and then replace large apex predators in the vicinity of the colony. Guard mages would use them for flanking attacks and 'headhunting' – sending them to infiltrate enemy lines and eliminate the commanders.

Due to the exigencies of a decades-long civil war between the Conclave and what became the Circles, Modern Seed possess only a few traces of the Protector roll, mostly in the threat recognition and command recognition programming. Even the colonial protection aspects have been degraded, as modern Seed are almost incapable of recognizing non-sentient threats that are not immediately attacking them. The modern Seed of Leviathan is a combat machine, refined specifically to hunt and kill enemy mages, and to penetrate magical defenses.

The Alpha, or pack-leader, is a recent development from late in anti-technology rebellion now referred to as 'the Circles'. Intended to improve the utility of the Seed in light of the rebellion and the Seeds' utility in large-scale combat, the Alpha is less a 'quantum leap' than a previously unnecessary modification. A few Seed have always been programmed with greater degrees of initiative and intelligence, but the process was ad hoc, on an individual basis instead of a consistent design. The Alpha enhancement unified all such 'pack leader' improvements into a baseline Seed command unit. The changes include more intelligence, slightly greater free will and initiative, improved size for greater survivability and easier recognition, and certain biological markers which mark the Alpha out to other Seed as a superior.

Physical

Height: 2 to 2.1 m (Alphas are standardized at 2.3 m)

Weight: 450 to 455 kg (Alphas are standardized at 500 kg)

Size: The Seed are physically large, approximately the size of modern North American grizzly bears. They are significantly stronger than those animals, as well as tougher and faster, in both speed and reflex. Due to the use of exotic materials and precisely designed muscles, nerves, skin and skeleton, Seed vastly exceed the limits of their apparent size. A baseline Seed can out lift world-class strong-men with ease, for example. However they are approaching the limits of their size, and fundamental materials breakthroughs would be required to much improve the physical capabilities. Even the Alphas gain very little usable strength from their increase in mass and size, possibly even exceeding the practical upper limit, where gains in size begin to require more strength than is gained.

Strength: Seed bones are formed of a metalized ceramic, functioning on a molecular level similarly to rebar and concrete – ceramic crystals provide compression strength, while the metal lacing allows the bones to flex under torsion. The muscles are an electro-reactive metal-polymer, capable of exerting tremendous force on contraction, but equally capable of distributing impact forces over a wide area. The design of the Seeds' musculature was configured for strength over flexibility to a small degree (5/4 ratio), limiting the Seeds' motion only slightly, but allowing the constructs to lift many times their own weight with ease.

Toughness: The Seed's first line of defense is its scales. These are formed of microscopic layers of ceramics and metal alloys, each scale roughly equal to two centimeters of modern CHOBHAM armor, in a package approximately five millimeters thick. While the scales are mostly attached to skin, in areas where bone lies close to the surface, the scales are attached by polymer tendons directly to the skeleton. The constructs' skin is formed of cells which coat themselves and connect to one another with high-tensile-strength protein polymers similar to spider silk. Combined with the metal-ceramic skeleton and impact-distributing musculature, most small arms are incapable of penetrating a Seed's skin. Anti-vehicular rifles will be slightly effective, however to have a reasonable chance of stopping a Seed, true anti-armor weapons such as RPGs and anti-tank missiles are necessary. Heavy anti-tank missiles (TOW, Javelin, Hellfire) or high-caliber cannon (such as tank rounds) are preferable, should sufficiently accurate aiming methods be available.

Speed: Seed are somewhat faster afoot than a well-trained human, but not unmatchable. It is in reaction times that the Seed are faster than humans. Seed nerves are formed of highly conductive metals, with living nerve cells incorporated as processing nodes where the nerves branch. This halves the time for neural transmission, both sensory and command. Sub-processing nodes are also located at each major joint (shoulders, elbows, hips, knees) allowing the Seed to react to some stimuli literally before it is aware of the stimuli. Conscious reactions are nearly as fast, especially in combat where the Seed needs to do very little thinking. Underwater, Seed are far faster and more maneuverable. Their hands and feet are partially webbed, and their scales are designed for hydrodynamic flow, which combines with programmed muscle movements to allow a Seed to attain bursts of thirty miles per hour underwater, and to turn in their own body-length at half that speed.

Endurance: Seed endurance is an odd thing, as a relic of their use patrolling colony borders. They require food, much like any living creature, but they can consume and process almost anything, and even without food, they can continue for months on internal reserves. Doing so will wear them down, however they can quickly rebuild mass – Seed digestive systems utilize almost ninety percent of all ingested compounds, with only a few very heavy metals, large-structure silicates, and organic toxins being passed through the system. Given time to forage, Seed can continue to function essentially indefinitely, barring damage. In pursuit terms, the Seed can maintain a grueling pace of twenty-five kilometers per hour, without stopping, for upwards of four hours. Over land, a Seed in top condition, with no injuries, can maintain twenty kilometers per hour (design cruising speed) for twenty hours.

Internal Organs: Seed follow a roughly similar internal plan to human beings, with some differences. Seed do not have proper lungs, but rather utilize a series of small gill-like arrangements all over their skin, with a larger concentration in the area of the shoulders. More efficient than fish gills, these allow the rapid processing of atmospheric or water-born chemicals into the Seeds' bloodstream, while removing the one-target vulnerability of humans' throat/lungs/diaphragm arrangement. The Seed also maintain dual circulatory systems that have only a few points of inter-connection. This allows for two hearts, either one of which can keep the Seed functioning. The last major organ, the brain, is not located in the Seed's skull, but rather in the chest cavity, protected by the maximum concentration of the Seed's scales, skin, and bones. Attempts to create a 'dual brain' resulted in massive losses in coordination and mental acuity, so there remains a single brain, but it is a small and heavily protected target. The skull of a Seed is packed, not with the central nervous system, but with magnetic navigation sensors and more mundane sensory systems, allowing the Seed phenomenal hearing, scent, and vision. Other organs, fulfilling grossly similar rolls to those in humans, are generally more vulnerable, but their loss cannot immediately kill a Seed. Redundant sensory organs are spread over the torso, insufficient for full operation, but sufficient to allow a wounded Seed to return to base for repair.

Vulnerabilities: Physically, Seed are for all intents and purposes invulnerable to a mage or unarmed human. Seed are only truly vulnerable high-energy conventional attacks: large-mass objects, or high-velocity objects. Shaped-charge explosives, such as anti-tank missiles, are the most efficient conventional weapon, but require great skill to utilize effectively. Seed are also vulnerable to certain toxins, if such toxins can be introduced past the Seed's scales and skin. The one critical vulnerability Seed possess is to electricity – due to the high concentration of metal permeating Seed physiology, electrical charge which would flow along a human's skin will flow through a Seed, damaging its internal organs and disrupting the nervous system.

Mental

Seed have intelligent but simple minds, similar in many respects to canines and cetaceans, though somewhat better at problem-solving, somewhat worse at self-preservation, and severely lacking in memory. Despite this 'intelligence', Seed are not generally classified as 'sentient', for several reasons, including the Conclave's desire to retain control of them.

Seed are as carefully programmed as any computer or AI, and that programming has come in for as much controversy as the rest of the program. Even amongst supporters of the Seed concept, the amount of independence and freedom of thought the Seed should have is frequently debated. The current iteration of the Seed is controlled not so much through limitations on its actions as through limitations on its memories. Certain information is hard-coded into the Seed's mind at initial programming, updated with each activation. Some information – specifically weapon and threat recognition profiles – are automatically stored in short term memory and, if the Seed returns within a few hours to base, can be reviewed by a handler and programmed into long-term memory. Other than that, Seed have no long-term memory, only short-term memories that last approximately twenty hours.

Without long-term memory, Seed are incapable of long-term planning, of ambition, even of self-identity. The last, quite specifically, reduces the Seed of Leviathan from sentient to animal, under Al Hanthis' laws. While a sentient soldier would be more flexible, that level of sentience would require that the Conclave recognize the Seed as such, and thus as free and independent beings. It would also make the Seed extremely dangerous to the Conclave, even if the Seed were freed and abandoned. So the Seed remain without memory, and remain mere weapons.

The source of the Seeds' cunning and ability to react to unusual situations, despite the lack of natural long-term memory, is still experiential. The programmed memories and responses have been updated, refined, and expanded on for centuries, a slow but steady and reliable progression. While the original Seed did lack mental flexibility and were predictable, modern Seed are vastly improved. The ease with which new programming can be spread through all the Seed eliminates differences in experience. Slow as it has been, the progression of their 'learning' has had enough time to rival and exceed any human veteran, and all Seed are equally veteran. The downside to this is that the Seed are very slow to adapt to new situations, new environments, and new threats.

Even the Alpha Seed share these limitations on memory. They have expanded programming, however, which places them in a commander mentality. Most Seed, against a given threat, will respond to that threat directly. Alpha Seed will respond with whatever Seed is closest, and reserve themselves for critical threats.

All Seed, regardless of mission or other programming, share the precise same threat recognition programming. Rather than built into their biology, this is built into the non-magical implants used to control and program the Seed. While there are nuances as to degrees of threat, most of this programming is a brute-force approach. Al Hanthis citizens all carry certain basic implants, regardless of strength, training, or position. These basic implants include a non-magical short-range sub-sonic transceiver. When queried by a Seed, a sound pattern the mage in question will not even notice, this implant responds with a hard-coded signal, identifying the mage. Based on the Seed's last programming update, it compares that code to its list of threats. If the code is listed, or if there is no response to the query, the mage is considered a threat and dealt with accordingly. If the code is not listed, the mage is regarded as friendly, and ignored. Some consideration has been made to changing the 'ignore' response to a 'defend' response, but such has proven difficult to effectively accomplish. Also, any creature that makes a threatening move towards the Seed, a creature that is listed in its mission profile, or which directly impedes the Seed in its mission, will be considered a threat, and dealt with accordingly.

Magical

The Seed of Leviathan have no controllable magic, but they do not lack magic. Quite the contrary, the Seed possess very rugged linker cores, roughly A strength by Bureau measures, which are used to 'ground out' any magic they come in contact with. Unstable effects, such as buster spells and scrying magic, will fail on contact with a Seed, though a wide-area effect may only fail in the Seed's immediate vicinity. More stable effect, such as shields and bindings, will erode so long as the Seed remains in close proximity, the closer the Seed the faster the erosion. Bindings will not hold a Seed, but bindings on other beings and objects will erode slowly until they fail.

This immunity to magic is both the Seeds' greatest strength, and its greatest weakness. While no magic spell can harm the Seed, no magic can help. A Seed cannot be shielded, cannot be healed by magic, cannot have its physical abilities boosted beyond conventional limits, and can only be transported with great difficulty. For the Seeds' intended purpose, however, such limitations are considered acceptable. While there have been attempts to give the Seed control over this immunity, to allow them to turn it off and on, so far those attempts have met with universal failure. The initial activation of the immunity is a delicate affair requiring heavy computer support during the Seeds' creation, and without that support, re-activating the immunity causes it to negate itself before it is stable. Research into this liability continues.

Storage

When not in use, the Seed are stored in capsules filled with a classified mix of fluids, in a form of hibernation. Prior to being placed in the capsule, the Seeds are programmed into the hibernation mode, reducing their biological processes close to zero. Entering this state takes some time, though the mental processes are immediately halted. While physical processes are in the process of halting, the Seed are placed in tanks filled with storage fluid, allowing the fluid to permeate the Seeds' respiratory and digestive systems and replace all large pockets of air. The fluid preserves the Seeds' body from exterior forces and any possible infectious or parasitic presence, as well as drastically limiting atrophy via chemical reactions with the Seeds' skin and muscles, and also contains, to some extent, the Seeds' magic-eroding tendencies. Once the Seed is fully in hibernation, they are placed in a containment capsule, which can then be stored however the handlers determine best. In Al Hanthis, they are stored along the rim of the city's platform, where the capsules can be easily jettisoned in the event of malfunction.

Waking the Seed from hibernation can be done in one of two ways. The standard method involves some moderately sophisticated facilities, while the second is automatic. The standard method involves removing the Seed from the capsule, draining off the containment fluid, and jacking the Seed into a control computer. The computer provides a full update with the latest programming, while also triggering the Seed to wake from hibernation. Nutrients are introduced, and stalled biological and mental processes are jump-started. This process takes approximately half an hour, and results in Seed at full functionality almost immediately.

The automatic method is far more time-consuming. Each storage capsule can be opened by remote signal, splitting the capsule into three sections designed to fall away from one another. Once open, the containment fluid drains away. An hour or two later, as the effects of the containment fluid fade, the Seed will sense this, and wake from hibernation automatically over the following two to four hours. Without the nutrients and programming updates, the Seed will be slow and clumsy for some time. Most Seed in this case will lock on to the nearest beacon and return to it, unless prior orders were hard-coded in. Some, approximately twenty percent, will revert to the old colony-protection role, and begin patrolling their immediate vicinity. Regardless, all Seed woken automatically will need to forage immediately for nutrients. As the automatic process requires several days to produce a fully-functioning Seed, is harder to control, and does not allow updating of the Seed's programming, it is rarely used.

Strategic

From a strategic standpoint, the Seed of Leviathan are a highly robust and flexible weapon system. Essentially self-sustaining, Seed can live off the land easily, thanks to their engineered digestive systems being able to break down almost any material. The Seed can, to some extent, maintain themselves even while marching, providing their own transport, though they are little faster than normal humans when doing so on land. At sea, the Seed are much faster, able to maintain rates of travel equal to or better than sharks.

The Seeds' immunity to magic makes transporting them by teleport flat out impossible, and by portal prohibitively expensive. Attempts have been made to modify cargo lighters to shield portals or allow teleporting of Seed, but the attempts have mostly failed. The only methods sufficient to contain the Seeds' corrosive effect on stable magic is to place them in full containment hibernation, which takes a minimum of half an hour to wake them from, and that is with facilities not normally available in the field. Some work-arounds have been developed, primarily involving massively hardened portals. These portals require prohibitive amounts of power, limiting their use to small-scale deployments, and even then the corrosive effect of the Seed limits them to passing no more than one of the creatures. Theoretically a portal could be developed which is sufficiently hardened to pass any number of Seed, but the power demands would be beyond extravagant. The current hardened portals used for squad-size deployments require as much energy per portal as a twenty-minute opening in the city's shield for cargo lighters. Those same cargo lighters, properly fitted out, can be used to ferry as many as five Seed to any location within hundreds of miles in that same time frame, for one power gem.

Transporting Seed by cargo lighter presents its own difficulties. The lighter's engines and control systems must be heavily shielded against the Seeds' presence, but those shields will erode the longer the longer the Seed are on board. Eventually, the Seeds' presence will begin to erode the motive and control spells. In practical terms, the lighters are good for approximately ten hours of flight time, or roughly six thousand miles. On balance, sufficiently shielded lighters allow the use of larger portals for more than one Seed, although still with some difficulty.

The most efficient form of transport for Seed of Leviathan is the Seed themselves. Given their ability to live off the land, the fact that they can literally never stop while swimming, and their general toughness, the Seed are quite capable of out-pacing any ground force in the world over distance. It requires time, and is very difficult to conceal, but the Seed can be relied upon to get where they are sent, and to arrive when they are told to get there.

If the Seed do not need to be fully functional on arrival at the deployment site, they are always transported in containment pods. The hibernation and containment fluids, combined with moderate shielding, allow them to be transported by any normal means. Colony fleets routinely carried large numbers of Seed, and simply activated them as part of initial landings. Naturally, this is not feasible for combat operations, though some attempts are occasionally made to deploy stored Seed using the automated activation protocols. Generally, due to the easily-detectible nature of portals and teleports, this is not viable against a magically active target.

In terms of actual strategic role, Seed are suitable for three general missions: ground patrol, area denial, and assault. Ground patrol is the most frequent use of the Seed, and the simplest – given a programmed area to monitor, the Seed will stay within it, prowling the region incessantly until given other orders, until a previously programmed return time, or until something 'hostile' attempts to enter the patrol area, at which point the Seed eliminate the threat, then resume patrolling. Area denial is similar to ground patrol, save that the Seed destroy any animal life form larger than a Terran field mouse, and any plant life capable of independent motion. This is a rarely used mission, and generally only utilized to deny critical locations such as factories, narrow passes, portal hubs, and the like. Area denial missions are sometimes modified into area destruction missions, where the Seed simply destroy everything in the designated region, living or not.

Assault is a somewhat limited mission for the Seed, given that most real combatants the Conclave faces are flight capable. However when assaulting a fixed target, such as a city, mining complex, or portal hub, where immobile structures must be defended, the Seed make an excellent addition to any attack force. As with any force, they cannot be sent in unsupported, but the magic-immunity and physical abilities allow the Seed to overwhelm any ground defense and secure the site, while mages secure the airspace. The largest problem with assault is simply getting the Seed to the target.

All Seed are programmed with a blanket recall order. Used initially to pull in patrols in order to update their programming or retrieve them for re-deployment, the recall order is generally useful, if easy to falsify. The range depends on the transmitter, and the command is simple – upon receipt, the Seed will make for the transmitter, avoiding contact with any threat that does not directly impede the Seed's return to base. The Guard generally uses this signal to organize retrieval of Seed after battle, but the Protectors are more liberal in its use, from post-mission retrieval to programming updates to simple training of the Seed maintenance and monitoring crews.

Tactical

Tactically, the Seed are limited, but excel within their limits. Seed are never issued weapons, and thus are limited entirely to hand to hand combat. Given their optimization for that, this is little hardship for the Seed. Their mental programming makes allowances for this limitation. Seed always attempt to approach a target unobserved, and always attempt to strike from the side or rear, avoiding frontal attacks. Seed tactics do also take advantage of their toughness, in that once a Seed strikes, it attacks all out with little to no attempt at self defense.

A lone Seed will use cover and stealth, attempting to remain unobserved as it closes with its target. Despite its size, a single Seed can be just as stealthy as any predator, and utilizes similar tactics – low crawls through grass, quick dashes when the target is unobservant, maneuvering down-wind, and so forth. The Seed will attempt to close to within leaping distance, about ten meters. Once within that range, all attempts at stealth cease, and the Seed simply attacks. The Seed will use its hand-claws to rend, with priority to the target's weapons. Against multiple opponents, Seed will disable one target, then seek to attack any other threats in immediate reach, though they have some difficulties with prioritizing targets in such circumstances. Once all immediate threats are disabled, the Seed will, depending on mission, either leave them in place for authorities to deal with, or kill the survivors.

In groups, the Seed are much more dangerous. Seed automatically recognize one another as allies and communicate, coordinating their actions. One or more Seed will act in such a manner as to draw the target's attention, while the remaining Seed utilize that distraction to close on the target unobserved. Once within leaping distance, the Seed will strike just as for a single Seed, and those Seed distracting the target will respond in one of two ways. If there is no other ranged threat, the distraction element will close on the target at full speed. If there is still ranged threat, the distraction element will shift to closing on that target under cover.

An Alpha Seed will change these tactics only slightly. The Alpha Seed are programmed for command, and with coordination and tactical acumen. Each Alpha will establish control of five to twenty Seed, and utilize them in pack tactics to make coordinated attacks on given targets. The Alpha Seed will generally refrain from making strikes, save against particularly difficult targets. Alpha Seed are much more capable of deceptive maneuvers, feints and false retreats, but their higher-level programming is much less refined, and therefore much more predictable, than the baseline Seed combat programming.

Counter-tactics

There are two major approaches to dealing with Seed – avoidance and destruction.

Avoidance is the most easily accomplished for a force of mages, save those forced to guard a fixed ground position. With flight, teleportation, and the like – all of which Seed are incapable of using – Seed of Leviathan can be maneuvered around quite easily. Unfortunately, aside from Seed on patrol missions, avoiding the creatures usually leaves their target undefended. Sufficiently extreme physical barriers – such as major canyons, lava flows, or non-magical electrical emitters – can slow the Seed greatly, but the only truly reliable way to avoid the Seed is flight and teleportation, essentially to remove yourself from the surface of whatever world the Seed is on. Simply moving to another location on the planet's surface will merely delay the Seed.

Destruction is the preferred method for dealing the Seed, though their nature makes this understandably difficult. The most reliably method is to simply hit the Seed with a sufficiently large object to crush it outright. Failing that, sufficiently catastrophic damage will kill a Seed, but they have far fewer vulnerable points than a human being. For a mage, there are generally two options – physically enhancing themselves to match or exceed the Seed's speed and strength, then attacking in hand to hand and destroying the Seed before its nullification effect cancels the mage's physical enhancements, or using magic indirectly.

Most indirect magic is, as mentioned, variations on telekinetics. Using the magic to lift and accelerate objects to speeds sufficient to inflict damage on the Seed. The generation of naturally damaging effects can also be done, though this requires a very delicate touch. A purely magically generated 'energy effect' retains the magic, and will thus not harm a Seed. Rather, the effect must be generated separately. Using magic to superheat and compress local atmosphere, for instance, can create plasma which will burn anything, Seed included. While created by magic, the plasma itself retains little to no magical energy, and will mostly bypass the Seeds' defenses. Similar indirect forms of generation would be required for fire, ice, electricity, or the like.

Electricity, as previously mentioned, is extremely dangerous to the Seed, as a consequence of their internal structure being highly conductive and thoroughly interconnected with their biological processes. Normal Terran biological forms can survive electrical shocks and attacks, such as natural lightning strikes, because the charge will frequently travel over the being's skin, with only part of the charge passing through the internal organs of the human. Due to the highly metallic nature of the Seeds' internal dermal, muscular, and skeletal systems, electricity that is not countered by the Seeds' magic-immunity will pass entirely through the interior of the Seed. A human being touching a live electrical cable will have a chance, however small, of surviving the resultant grounding. A Seed would be thoroughly electrocuted.

For the original Circles the Seed were a terrible weapon that was extremely difficult to combat. Unlike most of Al Hanthis' weapons from that era, in modern times the Seed threat is vastly diminished. Since the advent of the modern armored vehicle in World War I, human conventional arms have vastly improved their ability to damage hard targets. By modern standards, between its size, maneuverability, and physical structure, a Seed is roughly equivalent to a light or medium tank. Light anti-tank weapons, such as the venerable Russian RPG-7, can penetrate a Seed's skin and injure it, though barring a lucky hit to the brain, it will take several such weapons to stop a Seed. More powerful anti-tank weapons, such as the TOW or Javelin missiles, or most tank cannons, will kill Seed on a one-for-one basis, though such weapons usually have difficulty tracking and hitting a Seed, as the Seed is far more maneuverable than the targets such weapons are designed to destroy.

The most effective conventional weapon system to use against the Seed would be a properly armed attack helicopter. The inherent ability of all helicopters to hover and enter relatively restricted airspace allows the vehicle to loiter until a Seed is revealed and enter restricted terrain where the Seed might hide, yet to remain essentially unreachable by the Seed. Even if a Seed attempted to throw something, a helicopter can generally hover above the Seed's throwing range, while retaining range for its own weapons. While anti-tank missiles would be a must, the most effective weapon on an attack helicopter is the automatic cannon. While a single machine gun would be nearly useless, several heavy machine-guns would be eventually effective, but a proper anti-armor cannon would be best. The ability of a high-rate-of-fire fast-tracking cannon to track fire into the Seed even as it dodges would more than make up for its rate of ammunition consumption, and a helicopter platform is safe enough from the Seed to loiter for sustained fire.

The primary problem with employing conventional anti-armor weapons is tracking time and accuracy. Such weapons are designed to lock on to and hit targets many times the size of a Seed, which generate much greater heat signatures and are moving at much slower speeds. A Seed will probably see the weapon being brought to bear or see the in-coming missile, and react faster than a human to avoid the attack and find cover. As fast as they are, most missiles are slow enough to be dodged, so unlike against modern armies, a 'dumb' but fast weapon is more effective. Also, to overcome tracking time, a higher the rate of fire weapon is better – a 20mm rapid-fire cannon is actually better for combating Seed than a 120mm tank cannon, as the rate of fire allows the rounds to be walked into the dodging target.

For infantry, the humble RPG-7 and its family are the best weapons to use against Seed. They are more effective than a TOW or Javelin primarily because they are cheap and easy to use. Large numbers can be manufactured and deployed quickly, troops with little to no familiarization can use it, and despite the 'primitive' design, the RPG remains one of the fastest rocketry weapons in use. While it will take four or five RPG hits to bring down a Seed, an average squad properly equipped can fire ten RPGs every few seconds, enough to saturate the Seed's locale and score those hits. The fact that the RPG line is literally point-and-shoot, with no lock-on or tracking time beyond moving the weapon into line, also helps, as there are no tracking systems to be confused by the Seed's abnormal target profile.

Deva Magic

Midchildan, Velkan, and Circle styles of magic are all developed from the same basic form – that of the Conclave of Masters. Deva magic, for all that its discovery depended on those earlier forms of magic, relies on fundamentally different principles and rules. Because of this fundamental difference, Deva magic _can _affect the Seed of Leviathan, but not easily or completely. Deva spells will be unstable on the Seed, and still erode, but will do so in a slower, less predictable fashion. Also, Deva attack spell may be capable of slaying a Seed outright, though this has yet to be demonstrated or tested.

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Author's Comments: I originally envisioned the Seed of Leviathan as a mage-civilization's terror-weapon, like the WWII V-1 and V-2 rockets, or landmines. Their appearance and name came from a heavily-customized Hellboy campaign a friend of mine ran – they were a critter left over from Atlantis that the player-party fought on several occasions. I needed something similar, something Al Hanthis would have left scattered about that could be reactivated as a 'warning' to Hayate and the Circles that Al Hanthis was returning, and the Seed fit. Adapting them to fit the Nanoha-verse was not that difficult, even with figuring out an explanation of the magic nullification effect. Still, the Seed remain a product of their idea – a complicated but essentially expendable weapon that the Conclave would have had reason to leave in storage in small pockets all over the planet.

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CrimsonDX: The 'Green Lady' will turn up in Endless Waltz, her appearance in the last Side Story was mostly so I could work out how she appears – weird circumstances surround her. Didier isn't one of the 'major' first-years, but he does play his part, which is, I admit, hard to swallow without knowing his background. The Nanoha-verse isn't really known for its pacifists, after all.

Baughn: Your objections to last chapter, that it was 'too real', is why I'm not comfortable with it. As for the 'Green Lady', I don't think you're going to like the explanation of what she is, but she'll play a large part in Endless Waltz.


	17. 17 Can't Go Home Again

**Can't Go Home Again**

An Endless Waltz Side Story

By Daishi Prime

Author's Note: This particular story was inspired by a question asked in a couple reviews in Academy Blues, and several more early on in Endless Watlz – what do the parents think of their kids being involved in a war? For the most part, the answer is Hayate's most frequent argument – 'they're safer where they are, since they'll be targets no matter where they go, and at least at school they're learning to protect themselves.' Here's the result when Megan's parents don't agree with that.

00000

It was late afternoon when Megan touched down back at the hotel just behind Laura, and followed her friend inside, only to jerk to a halt on seeing Lotte-nee-chan standing by the check-in desk flustering the young man on duty. The Lieze Twins were part of the London force, but Megan knew Lotte was there for her, specifically, much as she had tried to ignore it. After a second, though, she growled softly and prowled over, blinking her eyes to clear the flickering energies that appeared around the familiar. Those were endemic, now, floating about anyone who used magic regularly if Megan forgot to focus on fading them out. They also made set wards uncomfortably clear.

"Lotte-nee-chan," she said, "I'm ready to go. Let's get this over with."

Lotte considered her a moment, then flicked an ear. "Go get your bag, chibi-ko. I noticed you only brought one, so Aria-nee-chan packed the rest of your stuff and sent it along, but you should take home the bag you brought, too."

Megan grimaced, growling again in annoyance that they had moved her stuff. She had been hoping she could leave it there as an excuse to go back and not come home again, an argument against returning home immediately. But she should have known that would not work. "We're just going to explain to them again," Megan said.

Lotte's smile faded into a wistful frown, and she reached out to ruffle Megan's silvery hair. "Chibi-ko… they're your parents. They have the right to pull you out of school, especially given what we've been asking of you."

"They don't understand."

"They understand well enough," Lotte said, "and we can't get between our students and their parents. We've stalled as long as we can. They withdrew you from school and told us to bring you home, so we have to do just that. Maybe when this is all over, you can talk them into letting you come back, but for now, family wins. Family should always win, Megan."

"Megs?" Laura had turned back from heading for the stairs, and now had a confused look on her face. "What's up?"

Megan shook her head, "Just having a little argument with my parents. I'll be back tonight."

Lotte sighed, wrapping an arm around her shoulder to hug her close a moment. "No, you won't be chibi-ko. You were supposed to say your goodbyes last night."

Megan frowned and shook her head. "No. I'm not giving this up. I can't get back to normal if I go home, and I can't stand to see all of you in danger and not being able to help. I'll be back tonight – one way or another."

"No, you won't. Hayate-sama's been over this with you, chibi-ko. Go get your bag, Megan," Lotte said, pushing her towards the lift, "and take a couple minutes to say goodbye to everyone, okay? You should have last night."

Megan waved that off, stomping off towards the lift. She was vaguely aware of Laura falling into step next to her, but too focused on her own annoyance and frustration to pay that much attention. Once the lift doors closed, though, Laura asked "So Megs… what's going on? And don't go growling at me like that, puppy-dog, I've got a rolled-up newspaper on me somewhere."

Megan grimaced, shaking her head. "Mom and Dad panicked after Hong Kong. They told Hayate-sensei to send me home."

Laura actually flinched from that, "Gah… I'm sorry, Megs, that's horrible. But you think you can talk them into letting you come back?"

"I'll be here for the battle, and whatever comes after," Megan insisted. "Whatever it takes."

The last time she had said that, Hayate-sensei had given her a long and careful lecture about her parents' worries and how Hayate could not keep her without breaking her own rules and standards. But Laura just shrugged and put a hand on her shoulder. "Sounds good. If you need a hand, let me know. I can be there in a couple seconds, at this point, and for some reason people seem to be scared of me."

"That's because you're terrifying," Megan muttered back.

"Aww, flattery'll get you nowhere Megs!"

Half an hour later, Megan walked back out into the lobby to find Lotte-nee-chan still waiting for her. She walked over slowly, dragging her feet, and asked one last time, "Can we please do this later? Sometime in June, maybe?"

Lotte shook her head and pulled her into a hug. "I'm sorry, chibi-ko, but no. We've put it off as long as we could. It's time to go."

They walked out into the street, then took to the air. Just above the roof of the hotel, Lotte teleported them out. Seconds later, they were in clear air over Megan's home town, a hundred feet over her house in fact. Stonehenge was just visible through the evening twilight, and Megan could just make out the statue of Sara that Hayate had left. Part of her was tempted by the sight to simply go, fly away. She could find someplace to stay until the battle, and once that was done, she could get herself back to Japan somehow. While she was not as sure of her teleports as Laura, Ichigo and Toushiro, she figured she could fly all the way there without much difficulty.

But Lotte took her hand and tugged her down, so Megan gave it up for later. If her parents simply would not listen to reason, or her back-up plan to prove her points failed, running away was always an option. It was not like the police could catch her to bring her back.

Her parents met them at the door, and for a second froze there, staring at her in shock. They had seen her, by video and pictures, since Hong Kong, but there was manifestly a difference between transmitted images and the reality of Megan's altered form. Then her mother wrapped her up in a crushing hug, her father was hugging both of them rather more gently. Megan's mother did not say anything, but her father, after a minute, told Lotte, "Thank you for finally bringing her home."

"We had hoped for a breakthrough on her situation," Lotte said, "but I'm afraid that is going to take more time."

"We'll look after her," her father said. "Now if you don't mind…"

They started trying to drag her back inside, and Megan had to struggle to get free. She spun around and lunged back to hug Lotte. "I'm sorry, nee-chan. I'll see you again soon, I promise."

Lotte returned the hug, "Legally, chibi-ko. We'll see you in a year or so, once all this has settled down, or in a couple years when you're of age. We're not going anywhere. Now your parents are getting unhappy. Go on."

Megan watched Lotte until her teacher teleported out, and only then did she turn back to her parents. She wanted to scream at them, rail at them, throw a tantrum or run away. But they were her parents, and she understood their concerns too well to give in to her temper so completely. So before she lost it, she brushed past them, heading up the stairs to her room.

"Megan! Megan, wait…"

She stopped halfway up, but did not turn back. "Wait? Wait for what? The day after tomorrow, when I'll get to watch my friends fighting for their lives and your freedom on the telly? The day after that when I won't know who survived and who didn't, or who was injured? How about until the day after _that _when Al Hanthis comes for me, or the Circles do? Wait? That's all I can do now. I hope you're happy. God knows you've just robbed me of my chance at it."

She knew even as she said it she was being melodramatic, but her parents had just cost her the best things that had ever happened to her. Even Longinus, wrapped around her wrist at present, failed to comfort. She managed not to slam the door to her room, then wrapped the whole chamber in a shield, sealing it. Then she slumped against the door and bust into tears.

00000

It was well after supper before she recovered herself. She cleaned up her face, made a desultory effort to unpack, then woke Longinus and sat on her bed, arms wrapped around the spear while it rested in her shoulder. "Aria-sensei says I need to plan better," she murmured, turning the spear in her hands, watching the butt dig into the carpet. "So, how do I get out of this one? I already decided against simply running away, Hayate-sensei would have to just send me back."

Longinus shivered in her hands, and in that vibration she heard its response, _'Noriko. Tenn__ō__.'_

"Noriko-chan? I suppose, she could grant me asylum or something, that would give Hayate-sensei cover, at least until the war is over. But I'd have to reach her, and that won't do anything about tomorrow or the day after. I could just go for the battle and then come back, but Mum and Dad will freak," she grimaced, "even more than they're going to when I go back downstairs. So how do I get there for the battle, without giving up Mum and Dad?"

Longinus did not answer for a while, and she continued to mull it over. Then the device hummed again while she spun it. _'Seed.'_

That made her tense, and she sent out a reflexive scan. She relaxed when it revealed no odd null spots within a mile, then tensed again when she recognized the feel of one of her parent's new guests. The recognition was not so much the individual, as his nature – a Circle Mage, a moderately strong one.

"He's stronger than Maunders, steadier," she muttered, frowning at the floor in the direction of the mage, "So… Master, I think?"

His presence, the fact that her parents had obviously invited him, and the probability that they knew what he was, woke her temper. At the same time, it hurt, terribly. Her parents had wrenched her away from the school, away from her friends, and then invited into their house the very enemies that made the school unsafe in the first place.

"I can't believe them," she hissed, and almost decided to go down there and show them why Circle mages were sub-standard. But prudence won out, since she had no idea if this Circle mage could cast Judgment of the Fallen, or worse. So instead, she used Longinus to inscribe a message on her wall. Then she slid the window open, jumped out the window, and shifted into an owl. The privacy shield collapsed behind her in a spectacular flash, specifically to attract everyone's attention.

She circled over the house for a few minutes, but it did not take long for her parents to find the message and come running out to look for her. The message was quite clear – _'I will not remain in a house where Circle mages are welcome.' _

She made sure the Circle mage was out of the house, and staggered in the air in surprise. It was Vicar Geoffrey, from up the road, who had joined the priesthood at the same time as her Uncle Thomas. He was not quite a 'friend of the family' as the Sommersby clan recognized it, but he was close. Megan shrugged that off, though, and slammed a shield around the house, tying it to the structure the way Hayate's wards were fixed to the valley. She was not supposed to know how, but she had spent a lot of time prowling the wards, and the anchor worked, well enough.

Then, once she was sure Geoffrey could not return to the house, she flew away, heading for the statue of Sara. She would go wolf once she was there and spend the night somewhere she could sleep in peace.

00000

When she woke with the dawn, Megan found herself shivering in the cold and coated with a little frost. Between her fur coat and Longinus, she was comfortable enough, just a little chilled, but starting to get hungry. Shape-shifted or not, she was not a hunter and not about to go looking for a wolf's normal food, so she left the statue and loped back into town.

Where a normal wolf would have slunk through back yards and under hedges if forced into urban terrain, Megan strolled along the roadsides, sidewalks where they were convenient, and generally made no attempt to hide herself. Given how distinctive she looked – wolf shape, with the ruffled silver and turquoise mane, scales instead of fur on her muzzle, and the all-gold eyes – it was impossible for people not to notice, and most just stopped and stared. She had some fun with a group of younger kids on their way to school who thought she was just a dog, playing with the braver ones, letting them pat her, and keeping one overly energetic little boy from stumbling out into the street.

She did not go home, despite her hunger. Instead, she found a convenience store, shifted back to normal and, keeping Longinus active, found herself the sort of fruit pies that her mother and Miss Kobayashi both hated letting her have. The few pounds of spending money Hayate-sensei had given them all for their stay in London more than sufficed to cover that and a soda, and Megan ate her breakfast while prowling the town.

It was just shy of nine when she finally returned home, once more in wolf form. She had one encounter with a very nervous policeman she vaguely recognized as her cousin Fran's boyfriend, which lasted until she turned to human, explained that she was just visiting town, then returned to wolf form and loped off. She did hear him on a radio identifying her by name as 'the missing Somersby girl', which annoyed her somewhat. She was not missing, she knew precisely where she was, and her parents had no right to drag other people into their private quarrel.

When she got to her own street, she found the expected number of extra cars. Her parents had called her father's siblings and cousins, and most of them had no doubt shown up, so a good chunk of the Sommersby Tribe was probably crammed into her house, planning how to go about searching for her. Megan recognized most of the vehicles, though she had only heard of, not seen, Cousin Wendell's Jag which was new from December. There were two vehicles she did not recognize, though. The green econo-box roller-skate was no big deal, it was always possible one of her cousins in University had gotten an old second-hander. But the hulking semi-armored vehicle blocking the street was military right down to the camouflage paint scheme and the machine gun on the roof. She had seen several more just like it in London the day before.

Megan considered the vehicle as she loped up the street, noting the presence of the armed soldier at the door talking with a couple of her older cousins. Her cousins did not notice her approach, but the soldier did, falling silent and stepping out between her and her cousins. He did not actually lift the rifle slung across his chest, but his hands did move to ready it as he frowned in her direction.

She could understand the soldier's caution, given the strangeness of her behavior, and found she was not particularly afraid. He was not one of Hughes' Black Dogs, and there was no sense of magic about him, so he was no threat to her. Instead of doing something precipitous, she strolled to a halt at the end of the walk, and sat, facing her cousins, waiting for someone to make the connection. She had told everyone about her shape-shifting, even demonstrated it over the summer.

It was Marcus who figured it out first, putting a tentative hand on the soldier's shoulder and asking, "Megan? That you?"

She gave him a vulpine grin, and cocked her head to the side. Nobody moved for a second, and the soldier started getting nervous, so she shifted human again, leaning on Longinus. "Morning, all. Miss me?"

Marcus coughed, then said, "_Miss_ you? Christ, Megan, you scared us all half to death!"

Megan shrugged, "Good. Then you've got some idea what this is like for me." She looked past all of them, studying the house, and frowned. "There's still a Circle mage in there, same one as yesterday. I'm impressed he got my shield down this quickly. Tell Mom and Dad that if they want me to come visit again, they'll get rid of Vicar Geoffrey."

"He's here at the Colonel's request, miss," the soldier commented, and Megan finally looked him over. He was average in appearance, and she could not translate the patches and markings on his fatigues other than his name – Lautiger – and she thought she recognized his rank – corporal. She remembered seeing troops in London with fewer lines on the sleeve, at least.

"And your Colonel is here why?"

Lautiger cast an uneasy look at her cousins, then explained, "He's here to speak with your parents on behalf of the Army, miss."

"About me," Megan said, cocking an eyebrow. "What are they talking about, early recruitment, tomorrow, or locking me away somewhere safe?"

"Ah… I believe he's asking about bringing you back to London for the battle, miss."

That perked Megan's interest, and she grinned. "Well now, that's interesting. Let's not keep him waiting then, shall we?" She pushed past Marcus and Jessica, and after a second all her cousins trooped in after her.

Before the door was fully open, Marcus was calling over her, "We found her! Megan's here!"

Megan rolled her eyes at that, then snapped up a shield in reflex as the door was wrenched completely open and someone lunged at her. It turned out to be her uncle Steve, who bounced face-first off the shield, and in stumbling back managed to keep everyone else from mobbing Megan. Maintaining the shield, Megan walked into the house. "My parents?"

"In the living room," Steve said, rubbing his nose. "That's some wall you've got there, kid."

"A fifth rank shield," Megan replied, "sufficient for most purely physical attacks. If you all would not mind clearing a path, please?"

There was a little grumbling about that – it was something of a Somersby tradition to welcome family home with long and involved greetings that usually left the returning traveler somewhat bruised about the rib cage and shoulder blades. Her return at the end of the previous school year had been a two-day tumult that left her back and ribs sore and her face aching from all the smiling. But everyone cleared a path for her to the living room in back, and Megan made her way down that path without pausing.

She found her parents sitting on the couch, a man in Army uniform standing to one side, another woman in a bad suit sitting in her father's wing-back, and Vicar Geoffrey standing by her parents. She almost turned and walked out on seeing the Circle mage standing there, but decided it was not worth the effort. The longer she put off confronting her parents, the worse it would be.

So Megan walked forward until she was halfway across the room from them, watching them. They took in her shield in silence, their audience waiting for someone else to start talking. Megan considered them a moment, then asked, "So… how does it feel? Knowing someone you love is out there, God knows where, in some kind of trouble, and you completely unable to do anything about it?"

Her mother blanched, but her father's face flushed with anger. "You… you did this to _hurt us_?"

"No," Megan said, "I left because I will not remain under the same roof as a Circle mage," she gestured at Geoffrey, "and because I need you to understand that I am capable of both making and enforcing my own decisions. But it occurred to me this morning that now you have a clear example of just what you're trying to do to me. I have classmates, teachers, friends out there right now in just as uncertain a situation, people who have repeatedly proven that they are the best in the world. People I love just as much as I love all of you. People who are going to war to protect _you_.

"How do you think I feel, being dragged away just a day before they go to battle? How do you think I feel knowing that everything you ever told me about keeping my promises, standing up for myself, and being the best I can be, that all of that was just a pack of feel-good lies?"

"You probably feel about the same way they felt when they watched the battle of Hong Kong," Geoffrey told her. "You do know that your own part in that was rather well televised? Camera crews on the ground had a much easier time tracking you and your fellow students than following your teachers. They saw Atlantis' final attack, watched you plummet out of the sky limp as a corpse, and had no word on if you were alive or dead for hours. How did they feel, Megan? And how do you feel, knowing you did it to them again last night?"

If anything, Geoffrey's explanation merely increased Megan's sense of betrayal. "You… you knew what it's like," she said, turning back to her parents. "You knew, you had to know what taking me out would do to me, _and_ _you did it anyways_?"

Her mother shot back instantly, "You're too young to be doing anything like this! You're a child, Megan, and that woman and that place are too dangerous…"

"You want to talk about danger? Talk to him," she jabbed a finger at Vicar Geoffrey, "talk to Al Hanthis! You want to talk about people robbing me of my childhood? Talk to the ones who tried to kidnap me – and then tried to kill me! – for going to the _wrong school_. Talk to the bastards in Al Hanthis who murdered an entire family down to newborns, because one member of that family stood up to them. You do realize, don't you, that the only reason Noriko survived Al Hanthis' assassination of her family was because she was _at Hayate-sensei's campus_?

"What do think is going to happen if they do it again, targeting _me_? I've told you time and again, they aren't going to leave me alone just because you whine about my age. They murdered_ newborns_! Out of _spite_!" It hurt, watching her parents flinch from her, but Megan thought they might be beginning to understand.

"Miss Somersby, please," the woman in the suit said. "There's no need for this."

Megan glared at her a moment, anger refocusing. "I still have no idea who you are or why you're here."

"I am Melinda Cornwallis, Childs Services. I came with Colonel St. Sebastian to facilitate your return to London." Like most people, Megan had a low opinion of Child Services, and she saw no reason for the woman to be here. Before she could ask, though, the woman smiled 'warmly' and continued, "While you are still a child, and I would normally hesitate to expose you to such violence, the fact remains that you are uniquely equipped and your country needs you. If your parents will not come to see that, Child Services will…"

Megan managed, just barely, not to stab the woman with Longinus, but the quivering tines only stopped a few inches short of her face, making her flinch backwards. "Don't you dare threaten my family."

"Mi-miss Sommserby!"

"Cornwallis," the Colonel said, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "can you please refrain from antagonizing the living weapon of mass destruction."

That dashed Megan's temper cold, and she turned to him. "W-what?"

The Colonel considered her for a moment, then shrugged, "After due consideration of the capabilities your teacher reported, and in consultation with your teachers and the Circles, the Prime Minister and military agreed last August, very quietly, to classify enhanced mages as weapons of mass destruction. It won't affect you particularly, but any deployment of such mages would require the approval of Parliament, or of the Prime Minister in time of crisis, just like a nuclear weapon. Thus, you and your classmates are all living weapons of mass destruction. And unfortunately, you're demonstrating the typical emotional overreaction and self-control of a typical teenager."

"My self control is excellent," Megan growled.

"Here's hoping," the Colonel replied. "For the moment, however, that is one of the reasons I came to speak to your parents about. You are far too powerful to be left out of the defense of London, and far too powerful to be left to your own devices out here after London. I would recommend Circle training after London, as a compromise with your parents…"

"I will never agree to that."

He considered her for a moment, taking in Longinus still extended to just short of Cornwallis, and shook his head. "You'd run, wouldn't you? Right back to Kyoto."

Megan's answer was interrupted not by another guest, but by a shiver of magic. It took her and Longinus less than a second to identify it, and she and Vicar Geoffrey shared matching grimaces. "Atlantis," Geoffrey muttered.

Megan shook her head, "Worse. The Guard. Two of them." _'Laura… Laura I need some help. Two Guard mages just teleported in east of my house. Help?'_

Laura's response was immediate, _'On the way. I'll be there in a minute, the Liezes'll be right behind me.'_

_ 'Thank you, Laura, I'll keep them busy.'_

"Everyone stay inside," Megan ordered, withdrawing Longinus, "I'll keep them busy until reinforcements arrive."

"No," her father said, "no, Megan, you won't fight them. If you're not going to be at London or at that damn school anymore…"

"They'll take me anyways," she snarled back. "Do you really think Hong Kong had anything to do with the Revenant attack on Al Hanthis, Dad? Really? Are you that blind? Hong Kong was a big target, a statement, and proof that Al Hanthis will do whatever they want, to whoever they want, whenever they want. I am a powerful mage who is not under their control, and like the Circles they despise, they will never accept that."

"I cannot shield this house against two heretics," Geoffrey told her, "you would do better to remain here until your allies arrive."

Megan shook her head, "Noah could, but not me, not against two of them. Stay here, all of you."

She pushed through her crowded relatives to the back door, and launched from the back step before the door even closed, wrapping herself in her armor and curling Longinus about her left arm. Longinus fed her vectors and highlighted the two mages in her vision with data as she closed, and she had to swallow past the fear. They were both strong, one upper Journeyman rank, one lower Adept rank, by the Circles' measure. Either one would be problem for her, since so many of her abilities were not geared to fighting, and what she did have was geared to the sort of close-combat they preferred to avoid. With two of them, they would have an easy time keeping her at arm's reach.

_Stall for time,_ she decided, _try to talk them out until Laura gets here._

The two separated slightly as she approached, far enough to avoid blast attacks but not far enough to fall out of mutual support range. Then they waited, hovering halfway between town and Stonehenge, waiting for her. Megan paused a short distance from them, looking south to Sara's statue, and took a moment to draw strength from that. Sara had faced worse, as had Hayate-sensei, and Lotte-nee-chan, and all the rest of her teachers. Megan could live up to that for a mere minute or two.

"I am Megan Sommersby," she said in Japanese once she was close enough, "charged by the Crown with defense of England against encroachment by the forces of Al Hanthis. Your presence here is an act of war. Stand down and surrender, and you will be held peacefully until the end of hostilities allows your return to your city."

The two men looked at each other, then the younger of the two grinned and jerked a thumb at her, muttering something she could not hear. She had a distinct impression he was laughing at her, a 'get a load of this one' attitude. Longinus snapping into spear form wiped away the smile, and made the two back off slightly. "You have one minute to surrender," she told them, "before continued refusal will be taken as a sign of hostile intent. I will not allow you to harm those in the towns below us. Surrender."

The older one shifted forward slightly. "We are not here for combat, child. We came to investigate anomalous readings prior to our punitive raid on London. This country has provided and continues to provide material support to rebels attempting to destroy our city. _That_ was the act of war."

Megan shrugged, "Pretty it up however you like. We all know you're doing this for the fun of it, trying to conquer instead of coexist. England and Great Britain have committed no acts of war. Your presence here is one. Surrender."

"To a kid?" the younger Guard sniffed derisively, "I don't care if you are one of the Yagami woman's child soldiers, you're not going to be able to take us. If you come quietly, though, we promise not to hurt you, or even lock you up. Your classmate's been given the run of the city, even given lessons in proper magic. You'd do well with us, girl."

Megan snarled at the reminder of Natalia's betrayal, at the suggestion that she do the same. She could feel herself shifting instinctively, her scales hardening, fangs growing, but she reined it in. If she shifted too soon, these two might kick off before Laura arrived. "I am the Hengeyokai Queen," she growled, "Twilight Paladin. Think of me whatever you like, I am one of the few people on this planet who will grant you mercy."

"You're going to need mercy…"

"Enough, Ferau," the older mage interrupted. "This is a mistimed trap. We're done here."

"Aww, leaving already? But I just got here. You can't leave before I get to play, too, that'd just be mean and surly."

Hearing Laura's voice, and seeing the other girl materialize in the air behind the Guard mages, was such a relief Megan thought she might fall out of the sky. Laura was in full armor, hands cupped behind her head, ankles crossed, leaning back on nothing. The grin on her face was her all over, fun and silly and threatening all at once. "Hey, Megs," she continued, "enjoying your time off while the rest of us slave away in London?"

"Not really," Megan replied, "I keep getting interrupted by barbarians like these two."

"We are not barbarians," the older mage replied, "and good day, children." The teleport took hold and the two mages vanished even as Aria and Lotte teleported in.

Rather than relaxing, though, Megan tensed. The Guard had made a handy diversion, but now she was going to have to go back to that house and try to deal with her parents. As Aria and Lotte drifted over to join her and Laura, Megan turned back towards her house, thinking furiously. When Lotte put a hand on her shoulder, she looked up, "I don't suppose I can talk you into taking me back with you?"

Lotte smiled at her, but shook her head. "No, chibi-nee-chan. Even with this, we can't take you back."

"There's a Colonel down there trying to talk my parents into it."

"If he succeeds, we will be more than happy to bring you back, Megan," Aria said, "but your parents are worried about you. Justifiably, these wards you've been setting up are rather obvious." Aria gave her a speaking look, "I might be tempted to call them 'blatant'."

Megan tried to match one of Laura's insouciant grins, but only managed a weakly guilty one. "Well, I'm making them up on my own?"

Laura laughed outright at that, and Lotte ruffled her hair while Aria shook her head sadly. "Megan, you don't need to worry so much. We're still keeping an eye on you, and we knew immediately when the Guard turned up. Laura taking off distracted us from coming ourselves."

Megan's smile faded. "The first thing my parents did after Lotte-sensei left was invite over a Circle mage."

"They're justifiably worried about your permanent shift," Aria told her reasonably. "_We're_ still worried about it, and we know more about how it happened and what it means."

"And the Circles know jack about shape-shifting, Aria-sensei. I asked Tai-yu-sensei, I even gut up the guts to ask _Maunders_. The Circles never bothered studying it."

"Do remember how cellular the Circles' organization is," Aria reminded, "Master Maunders and Tai-yu-san do not know all there is to know of Circle magic."

"Actually, Aria-sensei, shape-shifting doesn't fit the Circles' mentality," Laura countered. "It would corrupt their whole 'purity' thing."

"Even if they do know, do you honestly expect me to ever trust one of them? After February?"

"Hughes' Moderns…"

"Are still Circles," Laura interrupted harshly, making Aria and Lotte start. Megan caught where Laura was looking, and sure enough the crowd at her house were now in the back yard, staring up at them, including Vicar Geoffrey. "The Moderns are better than the Revenants, but that doesn't mean much. Al Hanthis is better than the Revenants, even with all they've done."

Megan considered her family for a few seconds, thinking it over, then sighed. "Go ahead back to London," she said. "I'll be there in a while. The Colonel will convince my parents, and I'll be along after that. I need to talk to Noriko afterwards, as well. You won't let me go back to school, I understand that, but I can't stand to stay here, either. They're forcing me to pull a Russian, then handing me over to the Circles."

"Megan…" Lotte trailed off uncertainly, patently unwilling to argue further, but also aware she had a responsibility to do so.

Megan gave Lotte a sad smile, "Sorry, Lotte-sensei, but I'm not a student anymore. My parents saw to that. Go ahead, I'll see you in a couple hours."

Laura drifted closer and nudged her. "You sure you don't want help against that Circle pansy?"

Megan rolled her eyes, "No, I do not need you to assault a Vicar for me. Go ahead, I'll be along later."

The Lieze twins and Laura left, and Megan continued to float for a minute, thinking it over, before she descended. She almost teleported after them, to work it out later. But stubborn refusal to give up on her parents kept her from just abandoning them. So she drifted back down to her back yard, noticing the mixture of concerned and awed expressions. She also noticed that there was someone else there she did not recognize, beyond the Colonel and Cornwallis. He looked old enough to be one of her grandparents, but was none of them, nor any of her great-aunts or great-uncles.

She landed on the brick fence, resting Longinus on the brick by her feet, holding it at an angle. Her parents, the Colonel, Cornwallis, and Vicar Geoffrey came out of the crowd, her parents holding hands and staring at her worriedly. Megan stared back at them for a few seconds, eyes hard. "That's what my life is now, Mom, Dad," she said. "The Guard, the Circles, the Government, it doesn't matter which of them it is. Someone's going to be trying to take me away, either to put me to use, or to kill me outright."

"The Circles would welcome you with open arms, child, if you would just let go the heresy," Geoffrey told her.

"Hah! Yeah, did you tell my parents what the Circles do with apprentices from non-Circle families?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, then he shrugged, "Adjustments could be made. The laws regarding training an apprentice are flexible."

"But the separation requirement is not, is it?" Megan shook her head, "No, even if I could trust you terrorists not to kill me, I'd never see my family again, would I? What do you think, Mom? Want to 'save' me from Hayate-sensei so you can never see or hear from me again? Or how about them?" She waved back towards Stonehenge, "what do you think Al Hanthis would have done with me? You might have gotten to see me again eventually, but only after Al Hanthis has been destroyed, because that's how this war is going to end, whoever wins – in which case I'll be at ground zero for that."

"We aren't going to let anyone take you, Megan," her father said, "you're home now, we'll get you back into the school here, and you won't have anything to do with any of this again."

"It's not someone taking you they're worried about, lass," the unidentified old man commented in an odd Scottish accent. To Megan's surprise, he immediately drew hostile looks from everyone in the family over age twenty.

"Not now, Richard," her father snapped.

"Now or never," 'Richard' continued, "she needs to understand the cost of the course she's going to follow."

"This is none of your…"

Megan cut off her father, "Who are you, Richard? Why's everyone so angry at you, even when they weren't angry at the idiot Cornwallis."

"I'm your great-uncle," Richard replied, "the one that left. That's the price of being a Sommersby, Megan. Anyone's welcome, but you can never leave."

"Thomas left, and he'll be welcome back anytime he wants," her father said, "you're not."

Richard snorted but waved that off, walking up to the fence. "I told you when she was four, she's like me and Thomas. She's just coming into it sooner. Reminds me of my great grandfather, ran away to the navy at twelve." He stopped, resting a hand on the fence while he looked up at her. "So, Megan, from one black sheep to another, here's how the Sommersby traditions work. If you leave to find someone to bring back, or leave to uphold the family's honor like your uncle Thomas, you'll be welcome back. But if you leave just to pursue an opportunity, to find a new way of life, you better be ready to never come back."

"Richard, you need to leave," her father said, almost growling. "Just because you went out of your way to make yourself unwelcome ten years ago…"

"I spoke the truth then, just as I am now," Richard said, "and I've said my piece." He turned and started walking back through the crowd. "If you go, Megan, you're not going to be able to come back. Not if you're leaving for the magic. Not to this family."

Megan watched him go, then turned to her father. "What did he do ten years ago?"

"That doesn't concern you," her mother said. "He's just lucky we didn't bring him up on charges."

"He's also wrong, Megan," her father said. "We're not going to force you to chose."

"Because I don't get a choice?"

"You're fourteen."

"I am the Hengeyokai Queen," Megan ground out, literally growling, feeling it rumble in her chest, "and a Twilight Paladin."

"Your games…"

Megan cut him off by shapeshifting, and in the blink of an eye went from a five-foot tall girl to a hundred-plus-foot long dragon, looped back and forth over the fence, coiled around so her head loomed over her parents. Her family flinched back from her, and some of them shrieked in surprise. Megan maintained the form for a couple minutes, tracking her gaze back and forth across her family, giving them time to overcome their initial fright. Some of her cousins, those old enough to be out of school or to have skipped safely, even had enough courage, after a minute or so, to come closer and hesitantly confirm that her form was not an illusion.

When she was sure no one was going to either attack or flee, Megan shifted back, settling into a crouch on the now grooved fence top. "This is not a game, father. You heard the Colonel. I am a living weapon of mass destruction. And whatever you may think about how young I am, or how immature or foolish or disobedient, the simple fact is that I do not have full control of this power. The only people I can trust to teach me that are Hayate-sensei and her people. And with all this power, I cannot stand back and let them face these dangers without me.

"I'm sorry you don't understand that, sorry you don't agree. But you are trying to keep me from being what I am, from realizing my potential and fulfilling my creed. I will stand between the Light and the Dark, and I will protect my friends, my country, and my world. If, when all this is over, you want to see me again, you can send a message through Hayate-sensei. Goodbye."

She launched off the wall, flying east and leaving her home behind. Focus kept her from bursting into tears, and the wind disguised any tears.

00000

Halfway to London, she slowed down and reached mentally for Noriko. _'Noriko? It's Megan. I need to ask you a favor.'_

_ 'Hello, Megan-chan,'_ Noriko replied, _'Did you forget something at the dorm?'_

_'Actually… umm…'_ Megan had to swallow a sudden lump of fear, _'Will you accept me as one of your Paladins, like Laura?'_

Noriko was silent for a while, several minutes, which made Megan very nervous. She knew she was asking a lot, on every possible level. Personally, Noriko had to be hesitant about letting one of her friends do this. Politically, a lot of people in Japan were already unhappy with Laura, blaming a lot of Noriko's oddities on the American. Even internationally, some brilliant paparazzi masquerading as a news anchor had already pointed out that Laura's oaths basically made her Noriko's personal extra-legal enforcer, if Noriko so chose to use her that way. Adding another Paladin, however useful Megan would find it with her personal situation, had to be a difficult decision to make for Noriko.

Eventually, Noriko replied, _'Megan… that request… it is not something to be done lightly. It's also not something to be done simply to dodge your parents.'_

_'It's not it, not just that,'_ Megan replied. _'I just… I know it's Laura's thing, but what she's been saying all year is right. Did you know the government… sorry, the British government, declared us weapons of mass destruction? That's… I don't know how to react to that, other than proving we're not. Being a Paladin would make that so much clearer.'_

_ 'That is very like what Laura told me after she swore those oaths. Have you thought about those? They are not particularly limiting, but will still be difficult to keep.'_

_ 'I know,'_ Megan answered softly, shivering at some of the scenarios Laura had painted for her class to think about. _'But I think I can do it.'_

_ 'Then we'll talk more after the battle. For now, however, you can claim the title provisionally. I'll let Hayate-sensei know.'_

By the Megan arrived in London, Laura was flying with her. She did not say anything, but Megan knew Noriko had already told her about Megan's request. When they touched down at the Admiralty, to report to Nanoha, Laura stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"Megs… about tomorrow," Laura said. "You want to become a Paladin, too, that's fine, I'll give you the chance. Tomorrow, you have to prove you can hack it. I want you to hold to the oaths, as much as you can, and if you do, we'll talk with Riko-chan when we get back to Kyoto. 'Kay?"

"I can do it, Laura," Megan said, "and I'll prove it tomorrow, to everyone."


End file.
